


Dames, Birds, Dolls, Killers

by sailtheplains



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - 1940s, F/F, F/M, Genderbend, Jane Austen Barnes, Janie Wonder, Nicknames, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Racial slurs, Science Bros, Stark Plugs, Tony Stark surgery, army club, assassin club, femflip, infinity stone, muscle bros, science club, science sibs, wonder twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailtheplains/pseuds/sailtheplains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!Barnes--Jane Austen Barnes--and Steve Rogers</p><p> <br/>I wanted to write a female version of Bucky because I was honestly interested in how gender would have affected the character of Bucky Barnes. In the 40s, Jane Barnes would have had a really REALLY different experience than Bucky would have. At least socially--the expectations put on her as a young female raised an Italian-Irish Catholic. </p><p>The war experience, of course, is different because she would not have been allowed to be involved in direct combat. But Zola and company--were looking for strong wills, not only strong bodies. Among all these men--it's obvious that some of this violence is directed at her only because she's a woman. That's just a fact of life for most women.</p><p>There really is no difference between Bucky and Janie as the Winter Soldier because the Winter Soldier is a tool, a thing. I don't really imagine their emotional reactions being all that different either. </p><p>I don't like the idea of 'feminizing' a character or 'masculinizing' for that matter. I want Jane to have her own experience and identity but still be recognizable as an alternate!Bucky. </p><p> </p><p>Rating jump occurs in part 2 - with Jane Barnes and Natalia Romanov</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stevie Wonder

_Notations: 14 June 2014_

_East Coast Project Lead: Dr Lisa Sebasilla_

_Location: DC, the Vault Laboratory_

_The Asset has shown remarkable resilience. Despite multiple wipes, she recognized Captain America. Not by name but as someone she 'knew'. The Asset became volatile and unstable and had to be wiped again. Pierce spoke to the Asset briefly and deemed it acceptable to simply wipe her and set her against Steve Rogers again. Rogers, Romanov and an unknown Black male working with them were taken into custody after their fight with the Asset but they escaped. We do not have the time to make the Asset new body armor--Agent Rumlow thought the loss of her muzzle seemed almost symbolic. He was promptly told to keep his opinions to himself._

 

 

Steve entered his dark apartment. Raking fingers through his thick hair, he dropped his kit bag. It made a heavy _thump_. Another dark night, silent return, back to his dark apartment. This job had taken him relatively close--compared to where he usually seemed to end up. Dijon, France—some wealthy asshole banker. Steve didn’t care, didn’t remember the details. Too much effort. He went only because Natasha had come to him herself.

Take a break from the search, please. We need you.

_Not me. You need the symbol. The shield. Captain America. No one needs Steve Rogers._

No one.

 

No one except….

Steve tried to shake the thought away, heading into the kitchen. He braced his boot on the counter, untying the laces and pulling it off. The steel toe made a _thock_ when he dropped it, followed quickly by the other.

He’d been gone for two weeks. The apartment was silent, he might as well still be gone. The search, as it happened, had gone nowhere. It had been four months since that day on the helicarrier. Thor hadn’t been back in awhile—else he might have just broken down and asked to be taken to Asgard so he could ask the Guardian to find her.

The only thing Steve had of her—the knife she’d planted in his shoulder—was still sitting on the kitchen table. It was blank, unnamed, clean. Like the Soldier. Like….well, not like Janie. Jane Austen Barnes—named for her mother’s favorite author—had never been a lady. They were poor. She was a dame, a bird, a doll. And she’d loved every moment of it. And for some reason, she’d been Steve’s best friend.

 

There had even been times, more popular young men, bigger, more handsome, looked at Steve with such disdain, said to her, _Hey doll, you rationed?_

And she’d bite her lip in that way that gave Steve the shivers at night and say: _Why, G-Man? You a ducky shincracker like Rogers here?_

Usually, they’d be so stunned, they’d just stare at her. And she’d link arms with Steve like she was his best girl and they’d walk off.

“Janie,” Steve had said. “They—they’re gonna assume things.”

“Who cares,” Janie flipped a hand. “You’re a better guy than alla them.”

“You don’t have to hold back for me.”

“Stevie Wonder—I don’t hold back for nobody.” She winked.

His mother loved Janie Barnes—thought she was a real doll. Steve adored her—resented a little that Jane was taller than him and was occasionally mistaken for his older sister. She never seemed to mind. She dated, certainly. She and Steve had known each other since kits. They were inseparable. Brother and sister. She had always been a fierce brunette little firecracker. Men couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

She wasn’t always the type they’d take home to mother—but she was the type they’d take dancing. And she’d dance the night away, jitterbug, flip her wig, drinking hooch and smoking cigarettes. She played cards and gambled. She swore at sailors, proper ladies thought she was uncouth but to working class girls, she was just another one of them.

Jane had the looks, the smarts—wanted so much from a world that held her back. She was constantly bursting at the seams. And maybe that was why she stuck with Steve---he had the gender to do what she couldn’t—but none of the health.

“If only we coulda switched, Stevie Wonder,” she said. She smelled faintly of cherry tobacco—though she never smoked around him. “I’d give you my health in a flash.”

“Don’t say things like that Janie.”

“I’ll say what I damn well want. S’not fair to make me healthy and then not let me do anything on account of being a girl. While you have the right _parts_ and God spits in your face.”

The way she said ‘parts’ made Steve look away.

“Don’t you get shy on me, Steve Rogers."

"I ain't shy."

"You are."

"I am not!"

"I know that for a guy like you—“

“Don’t, Jane—“

“What?”

“Don’t act like girls should be falling on me. They’re not. And they won’t. It’s not hard to see why. I mean, c’mon. If I took you dancing, I’d have an asthma attack.”

Jane sighed. “I know, Steve. I hate the thought of leaving you here.”

“They’ll never let you go with the men, Janie.”

“I’m not going with them. I’m studying abroad,” she said. “Else my pop said he was gonna try and get me married before the year is out. So I’m studying abroad. And I’ll become a combat nurse.”

“Janie, you could get shot. They could kill you.”

“I could get shot over here too. But you know, I’ve always wanted to be serenaded in French or German before I get shot.”

Steve gave her a reproachful look.

She laughed. “I promise—when it comes down to it—I’d rather go to war than get married off. Girls my age are like farm produce. No rights, no freedoms, nothing---unless our fathers let us. That’s something you can’t understand, Steve. You think I don’t like being here in New York—the loveliest new city—dancing the night away and havin fellas buying me drinks? I like it here. And I’d stay with you the whole time—try to keep you from enlisting, at least—cause you will get killed--”

“You just said—“

“It’s different for me, Steve and don’t you pretend otherwise.” The slight southern twang from her father always came out in the word _otherwise_. “I’m healthy—my problem—or rather, everyone else’s problem—is me being a lady. Your problem is that you step outside in April and the nature actively tries to kill you.”

Steve looked away.

Janie frowned. He seemed so small in the grim light of his bare little apartment. It had lost all the warmth when Steve’s mother died. “Steve.”

Steve’s lips tightened, hearing the reproach in her voice.

“Stevie Wonder.”

He half-smiled and looked up a little. “Janie Wonder?”

“Just wish me luck?”

Steve got up, made a show of dusting off his shirt, offering his hand. She took it and he kissed it. And then kissed her cheek. “Be careful. And don’t marry anybody while you’re there. Who will make sure they’re good enough for you if I’m not there to judge.”

“You either—you start seeing a girl, you better write. I will have all sorts of questions to make sure she’s tough enough for you.”

 

That was the last time he’d seen Janie Barnes—then he’d found Erskine. Undergone the treatment and went on show.

Nurses giggled over Captain America—and he always looked for Janie—but never saw her. And then when they’d hitched up with the 107th—well, that was when he’d learned. The 107th—the whole shebang, captured by Nazis.

“The whole 107th and their support staff,” said Carter.

“Support staff?”

“They took the Head of the local Nursing unit out here. Jane A Barnes. She wasn’t supposed to be following them—but she did anyway.” Carter looked somehow approving. "She's been caught twice with the men, asking them to teach her to shoot. And if a mission is dangerous, she follows--reprimands don't mean a whole lot to her, apparently."

"Janie Wonder..." Steve sighed to himself.

"Jane A real pain in my ass," grunted the Colonel.

 

And when Steve broke in—asking about Barnes—the others were quick to tell him. She’d been taken early. Been beaten and raped pretty savagely by a Colonel Lohmer—right in front of them. And then they’d separated her entirely from the men when they tore Lohmer to pieces.

Steve felt his gut seize, running down those corridors, scrambling into a room. She was…all that brightness, spunk—it was faded, beaten bloody. She kept murmuring quietly. “Army Corps Nursing Assistant, Barnes, Jane Austen; serial number—“

“Janie! Janie!” He picked her up—she felt so frail. She’d never felt frail to him before. Her eyes opened and she stared at him blankly. “Janie, God, are you okay? It’s me—it’s Steve!”

Her eyes seemed to hollow out. “S-Steve?”

“Stevie Wonder! C’mon, Janie Wonder,” he said, easing her up.

Her eyes scattered over him. “Wh-what happened to you?”

“I thought you were dead—“

“I thought you were…smaller. Am I hallucinating?”

“No. C’mon.”

“No, seriously, what happened to you? Am I drunk?” she asked, staggering—and then Steve merely scooped her up.

 

Even after they returned to the base, even after it was explained, Janie sat in the bar with the men and just looked at Steve. “I can’t believe it.” She had never been shy around Steve before. All the other men noticed the hesitance that she had, reaching out, touching Steve’s broad chest and his huge, muscled arm. The strange flush that rose to her cheeks and how she drew back and looked away. “This is insane—you’re taller than me now!”

Steve laughed. “I am now fully prepared to make sure no one tries to marry you.”

“This is not fair! How am I supposed to beat off all the women who must chase you now! I’m going to need three baseball bats coated in lard and gunpowder and grenades! I’m going to need two more fists!”

“Hey, you are already committed,” Steve told her, laughing.

 

 

Meeting Carter seemed to put Janie even more out of sorts. “She wants you. Bad.”

Steve did a double-take. “Wh-what?”

“C’mon, you can’t mean you don’t notice? I know it’s usually only me that paid attention to you—but she wants you hard, Stevie Wonder. Princess wants the Pauper.”

The next day, Steve had come in—found Janie in a tent deep in discussion with Peggy Carter. And it was likely this interaction, whatever it had been—that made Carter convince the Colonel to allow Janie to join the Howling Commandoes. She was a good shot—and Carter trained her personally. Janie was a natural. And as a sniper, she could hang around behind the men enough to satisfy Army regulation—but still be allowed to go and fight and serve as their medic as well.

She disdained the dresses they tried to make her wear. The Brit—James Falsworth seemed to take a particular interest in this—and got Janie a functional uniform. Dernier let her learn how to use his rifle. And she quickly surpassed him in skill. “Still lookin after you, Steve,” Janie told him, smirking through her scope, taking out a Hydra goon.

The Commandoes were quick to adopt Janie as one of their own. They took to calling her Sarge, even. But most often, called her Janie Wonder—because that was what Steve called her.

Everything seemed to look up—inseparable again. Janie Barnes and Steve Rogers, running all over Europe taking out Hydra goons. She chopped her hair into a neck-length pixie crop to keep it out of the way—and Steve didn’t want to admit how much he liked it on her.

And how much he didn’t like it when James Falsworth talked about how he’d like to run his stupid posh charming English fingers through it.

 

And then the train.

He hadn’t wanted Janie to go with them—but he had said nothing. Janie was a sniper, she knew the dangers and she was excellent in close combat. Steve had taught her himself. And she would never have let them leave her behind. Steve had her go with him—and everything was….

When she’d been trapped behind the door and then he’d gotten through and been knocked aside. She’d grabbed that shield—and been smashed right out the train doors.

That hollow, heavy, dead moment. Watching his best friend, his sister, fall to her grisly death.

 

 _Why didn’t I protect her? Why didn’t I save her--_  

And now, now, seventy years later. Torn apart by war, by Hydra, she was back. She was in the world somewhere. But she wasn’t Janie anymore. She was….not entirely the Soldier….but not Janie either. That terrifying moment. She’d _caught_ his shield, tossed it back to him. Cold, lifeless eyes.

And then again on the freeway, killing that Jasper clown with not even a flick of her eyebrows. Smashing through the windshield and tearing out the steering wheel. All Steve had thought, at the time was: _Whothehellisthis?!_

He or she only appeared to be Natasha’s size—but the body armored covered all the bits that were relevant to physical sex. When he’d torn the mask off…

_…Janie…._

Everything had gone quiet. The wind, the screaming, the explosions—Steve couldn’t hear any of it. Just see her. Janie. Staring down a loaded gun at him. Aimed _at him_.

_…Janie!?_

The strange flicker across her face, wrinkle of her button nose, narrowing of her smoke-blue eyes and then back—like the mask had been returned—but it hadn’t.

_Janie!_

And then she was gone. Like a ghost. Janie Wonder.

 

“You think too much.”

Steve jumped, nearly upsetting his kitchen table. He was on his feet in a flash and then nearly choked. “Jane!”

She stood there in the doorway like a coat-rack. The leather body armor was gone, replaced by less conspicuous flannel, sweatshirt and a jacket. She was wearing a ballcap. Steve could see the glint of metal in her left hand.

“Janie…”

She stepped back, eyes narrowing, warning him.

He stopped. “Janie—please don’t run. Just let me talk to you.”

“I read it. At the museum. The big one.”

“The Smithsonian?”

Janie shrugged, face still a hard mask. “Had a whole display about you. And about me.”

“Yeah, you…you were so important---and you were--are--my best friend.”

She looked suspicious. “Why.”

Steve blinked. “I—well…we….we met as kids. We were…close as—as brother and sister. We looked out for each other.”

She relaxed a little, leaning back against the wall again but her eyes still tracked every movement he made. “Why?”

Steve looked at the floor, then back at her. “I dunno. I had a lot of heart but my health was terrible. You had heart and health—but you were a girl, so no one would let you do anything.”

Jane crossed her arms in her coat. “I’ve been out of cryo too long,” she said, flatly. “I….remember things.”

“You know me,” Steve said, almost automatically. He started to get up again.

“Yeah. So you’ve said.” She drew back again as he got up. “I remember…blue, falling, dragging…I remember this.” She reached out, flexing the brute metal arm. “Why don’t I know anyone else?”

“It’s been seventy years.”

“Then you should be dead. Or close to it.”

“I was frozen, like you.”

“So why do you remember everything?”

Steve gestured helplessly. “I was with SHIELD--sort of. You were with Hydra. Different methods.” He took a step towards her.

She eyed him but did not move back. “Yeah…seems to be the case.”

“Please, Jane….let me help you.”

“How would you help?” she asked, voice dropping low, dangerous.

Steve stopped in his tracks, hands held in front of him. “We can help you. We can fix your arm. We can protect you from Hydra.”

“Hydra and SHIELD are the same.”

“They’ve both been dissolved,” Steve told her. “After the carriers were destroyed.” He stepped closer, near enough to touch her. "But there are still Hydra agents out there."

She watched him, leaning back a little back, tensing.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you.” He reached up slowly, gently touching the side of her face. “You’re….ha, you’re Janie Wonder. Do you remember that?”

Something winced across her face. She jerked back, looking away. “No. No…I…”

“All right, all right—I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I won’t—say that. I—you are Jane Austen Barnes. Just—just stay. Let me help you.”

It seemed to take Jane several moments to ease down again. But when Steve went down the hallway to show her a bed she could sleep in….she followed—from a distance, watching his back, the slope of his shoulder that _did_ seem almost familiar….

He backed away after gesturing into the room. And when she went in and shut the door, she listened. Heard him stay out there for a moment and then head back towards the kitchen.

 

_….I know him. I knew him….I know…._


	2. Control

Steve stopped, shutting the front door before they could exit and turned around again. “Jane.”

She narrowed an eye. She was wearing her flannel shirt, sweatshirt, jacket, jeans and three pairs of socks.

“Now, I know it’s hard to break certain habits—but you can’t walk around in New York with a bunch of weapons.”

Her expression became stony, eyes narrowing a little more.

“Do you have any weapons, Janie?”

Her lip curled.

“Janie, I will search you.”

Janie scowled, removing two knives and a Glock.

Steve crossed his arms, looking down at her, waiting.

Some flicker of Janie Wonder crossed her face as she rolled her eyes and removed another knife.

“Anything else?”

“Want me to remove my arm?” she asked.

“No,” Steve answered. “All right—c’mon.” He plopped her ballcap on her head and then reached down and checked her pockets and torso. He felt no other weapons.

She grunted, jerking back and reaching up to adjust the cap, scowling.

“Sorry,” he said, automatically.

 

“I take that back. I’m not sorry,” he told her, as they were stopped _again_ in Stark’s tower. Twice, they’d tried to go through the security gate and twice, the beepers had gone off. Janie did not look like this situation much suited her. She was getting more tense, agitated as she was forced to give up another knife.

“Just call upstairs,” Steve told the security grunt.

“I’m sorry, sir. We will need to search you as well.” The guard actually _approached_ , gently pushing Steve back towards the wall. “Spread your feet.”

“Are you new?” Steve asked, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Ma’am!” someone shouted.

“Janie!” Steve cried, shoving the guard away. He put himself between them—she had a P220 Sig Sauer trained on the security guard. Where the hell had she been hiding _that_?! He had checked her!

_Clearly not well enough._

Her eyes were stone dead blue, focused on the guard, not even looking around at the other security guards. Two were pulling out Tasers. The plating in her arm rippled. Her other hand drifted down to her hip, under the jacket.

“Janie—put the gun down.”

Her eyes went to Steve, back to the guard. Something in her expression suddenly seemed to strain. _Why am I…_

Steve took out his cell phone. “Tony—yeah, we’re downstairs. Yeah—we. I mean. I have. A guest. I need you down here to let us through right now. Or they might try to shoot her and you will have to hire a new batch of security guards. ”

Pepper appeared in moments, smiling. “Congratulations, everyone. This was a test of our security—you’ve all done a wonderful job. Captain Rogers, thank you so much for helping us today with the test. If you and your assistant could come upstairs, Mister Stark would like to speak to you.”

Steve sidled up to Jane, putting his palm around the barrel of the Sig. “Give it to me,” he whispered, lips barely moving.

“That guard. He was going to shoot you.”

“No, he _wasn’t_ ,” Steve mumbled, marching her after Pepper. “He was going to _search_ me because _you_ decided not to disarm this morning.”

She glared at him.

He jerked the gun from her hand and stuffed it in his jeans.

“He made me angry.”

Steve did a double-take. “What?”

“Why…when he pushed you, his hand touched his gun…I got this feeling….” She looked confused, lost. She started looking around again. Shoulders tensing, like maybe an escape route would be preferable.

“We’re almost there,” Steve said, gently. “Just stay with me, Jane. Nobody is gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Well, I do,” Steve told her. “You brat. Next time I tell you to disarm—you need to do it.”

She scowled, jerked away from him and stalked after Pepper.

 

In the tower, Tony was waiting, one gauntlet on his arm. Bruce was there as well, sitting at the table, drinking what appeared to be juice while Thor was leaning against the counter. Natasha and Clint were sitting on the floor, fixing one of his bows.

“Hey, Steve, heard you finally brought a girl—“ Natasha was on her feet in a flash, pulling her twin pistols.

At the same time, Janie reached into Steve’s jeans, grabbing the Sig. She had it pointed back at Natasha. Clint was kneeling next to Nat, his bow at ready. Bruce stood slowly.

Only Tony seemed unconcerned. Thor just grinned, looking interested.

“You all better not start shooting in my tower,” Tony told them. “Pepper will be mad and it'll be my fault. So everybody can put their weapons down, right the hell now.” He pointed at Janie. “You—you must be the Winter Soldier I’ve heard so much about.”

Jane’s eyes were flicking fast between them all. Steve grabbed her arm again. “Stop, Jane.”

“I think she just wants an excuse to reach into your pants,” Tony said, walking over nonchalantly to the counter to pour a drink.

“You’re thinking Pepper,” Clint said.

Pepper covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

“You better not be laughing,” Tony said, making an attempt to sound hurt. “I’m way more awesome than Captain Goldilocks.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He jerked the gun away from Jane again and this time, he popped open the magazine, removed the clip and tossed it to Clint. He stripped the handgun quickly, setting the parts on the kitchen counter. “You got anymore that I should know about?”

Jane stared at him, deadeyed and for a moment—Steve was afraid she might attack him. And then Janie seemed to fall back into a reflex. “Damn, punk.” And then looked surprised at herself when she said it.

“Tch, Janie Wonder strikes again,” Steve returned.

“Jane?” asked Thor.

“Her name is Jane too—but obviously not your Jane.” Thor looked pleased at Jane Foster being referred to as ‘his’. “When we were young…er—I called her Janie Wonder.”

“What’d she call you?” Natasha asked. She’d lowered her pistols but her eyes were still on Janie.

“Stevie Wonder,” Tony said, sniggering and then wove his head back and forth.

Steve blinked, startled. “Wha—yeah. Did Howard tell you that?”

Tony did a double-take. “Wh-what?”

“Stevie Wonder.” Steve looked a little embarrassed. “Did Howard tell you that—that Janie used to call me that?”

Clint burst out laughing, flopping back against the couch and dropping his bow.

Bruce fought a smile at the table, shaking his head and looking down. Pepper disguised a telling cough, clamping her lips shut.

Tony choked, “Isn’t she _lovely_ \--isn’t she _wonderful_!”

Natasha’s cool composure cracked, sitting on the couch and struggling with laughter.

Steve looked at them. Clint, Tony and Natasha giggling madly. He looked at Janie. Her head turned slowly. She shrugged at him. Thor met their eyes and shrugged too.

It took several moments for Tony to get ahold of himself. “Okay—just forget it. Sorry. Wonder twins, c’mere. Let me take a look at your arm, Ms Winter.”

Janie looked about to draw back again but Steve gently touched between her shoulderblades. “C’mon Jane. It’ll be okay. I’m gonna be there the whole time.”

Something in her expression flickered: anger, confusion, loss, vulnerability, desperation and then strained acceptance. Slowly, she followed Tony to his workshop with Steve. Natasha and the others followed.

When directed, she reluctantly removed the jacket. She eyed all of them until Steve got in the way with his stupid earnest eyes. The sweatshirt was peeled off, then the flannel shirt. She had a tank-top on underneath all that. Everyone quieted, examining the arm.

“Wow…” Tony said, instantly intrigued. “Jarvis, let’s get some blueprints.”

“Already in progress, Sir.”

Janie jumped, snarling. Her voice dropped, husky, low. “What is that?”

“Hey, it’s just Jarvis—he runs the house. It’s just a computer program,” Steve told her. “It’s all right.”

 _Like Zola_. Steve realized his mistake too late.

“This is a lab—I’m going back into Cryo-Stasis.”

“You’re not,” Steve told her, sitting across from her, staring at her eyes. “We’re just going to examine your arm and make sure it’s all right. That’s all. We can leave right away if you want. You’re not going to be wiped again—never, never again. I swear to God.”

“There is no such thing as God.”

“Then—then I swear to—to—Peggy Carter. Do you remember Peg?”

Jane’s face went stony. “No.”

“All right—then I swear to…to…Thor.” He nodded towards the huge man. “You know the legend from the Vikings about Thor. Remember—I read about when I was a teenager and I bored you to death with it. God of Thunder—that’s basically him right there. So if I lie to you, Thor will smash my brains in.”

Thor beamed, raising the hammer to show her.

Jane did not even twitch. “Thor Odinson, the Crown Prince of Asgard. Appeared in the New Mexico desert in 2011 and accompanied Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis and Erik Selvig. The Hammer appearing to have been a spelled, foreign object, was contained by SHIELD. He is not a God. He is of Asgard. Does he even have power without the Hammer?"

Thor put the Hammer on the counter and stood. "Were you to require a demonstration, metal-armed woman, I would oblige."

Bruce looked between Thor and the two soldiers. He raised a hand. "That's probably not a good idea, Thor."

"No," Steve snapped tersely, glaring at Odinson. "It's not."

"And you, Captain America, mission objective. The Initial, the one true success of Doctor Abraham Erskine. Father died from Mustard Gas, mother contracted Tuberculosis. Was recruited for the Super Soldier program at the age of twenty-five. Went to the European theater in 1943.”

“Jane.”

Her eyes glazed over. “Attempted an attack on Zola, failure. Successful attack launched at the Red Skull.”

“Janie, stop.”

“Cap…” and then her voice did a strange falter, something coming back into her eyes. “Captain America put the ship into the ice, saving millions of lives at the cost of his own. Or so they thought. He and Army Nurse Barnes….were the only two to ….” She looked confused again, leaning back into the chair. “I feel sick,” she said softly.

“All right. It’s okay,” Steve said quietly. That last bit—that wasn’t some implanted information. That was from the Smithsonian wall about him. He put a hand on her shoulder blades again.

Thor look contemplative, sitting in his chair again.

Tony had continued and now a sparkling read-out of the arm was in front of him. “Cool tech,” he said, not even seeming to notice.

 

Janie looked at Tony, at Thor, at Clint, at Bruce….and then paused on Natasha. Natasha….Natasha….

“Romanov,” she said suddenly and then flinched back from nothing, as if the word had stung her like a bee.

Natasha tensed a little.

“You were once KGB. Hydra.” She frowned, looking down again.

“You shot me once,” Natasha told her conversationally. “It was pretty hardcore. Good times.”

“No,” Janie murmured. “Before I shot you….” And then she went quiet.

 They had worked together, Janie realized suddenly.

 

 

 

She sat, silent as the skinny girl was brought in.

“This is your assistant for this mission, Soldier. Her codename is Black Widow. Do you remember Black Widow? You trained her on other occasions in combat." 

"I remember."

"This is a training mission for her. Do you understand?”

The Winter Soldier nodded. She did not speak to Widow. It was true that since Widow had appeared--the Soldier had trained her on occasion. She would only recall about a third of them. It was mainly impersonal, as the majority of her interactions with operatives went. Weapons, combat and stealth. The Widow was not particularly better than other operatives-in-training--except in silence. She moved like snowfall, like a shadow, like a spider.

The Winter Soldier and the Widow headed out together to Prague, the city of spires. There, they stalked their target back to his manor house. It was quick work to take care of the staff, quicker to get rid of the family. There had not been orders to cull the family—but when they were tying him up—his son burst in. He was five. The mother followed, along with another child, a daughter. For a long moment, silence—then the mother shoved the children into the hallway, commanding them to run—

The mother was dead in seconds. Dead before she hit the floor. The metal fingers tightened, crunching through bone. Pink splatters of brains and blood bathed the metal arm. Droplets slid down onto her boots. The Winter Soldier turned, meeting the man’s eyes. “Question him,” she said in Russian.

And then she went out into the hallway. The numb detachment sparked—flashing—with a red, vile feeling. Control. It should have been horror. But it wasn’t.

Control. Control.

The Soldier lifted the girl first. She screamed—managed a few seconds of one—before the metal fingers tore the front of her face off. The Soldier dropped the corpse, steaming warm on her boots. She dropped the mess of flesh and blood. The boy stared up at her, tears already staining his face. He backed up a few steps, fell down, gazing at her. He called for his mother in Czech. Her boot smashed into his face, caught on bone. She shook it off. Hot rush. Control.

She turned around, slow, methodical.

When she re-entered the bedroom, Widow was waiting. She nodded. “He told me everything,” Widow said quietly.

The Soldier stalked up to him and snapped his neck. Something red and hot went through her gaze—it was only a bare more amount of strength to separate the head from the body. So often, everything was dull, muted, no feeling, no emotions.

( _Control._ )

But something about this…something about this _(control)_ had her stomach rolling. Dead faces in her hands. The mother, the children, the father. The maid, the butler, the driver. The dogs, the cook, everyone. “Widow, what is your name?”

( _Blood._ )

The air was thick, heavy, metallic. The Soldier put her fingers inside the man’s mouth _(training)_. Both hands, one on each jaw _(mission)_ and she ripped the lower part off. Dropped the mess at her boots.

_Was this in your training, you cunt American whore._

A man _(Lohmer)_ —suddenly swam in front of her eyes. His face in her hands, his jaw slopped at her feet.

_Filthly fucking mutt._

Her eyes slid over. The Black Widow was standing very still next to the body. She reached over, grabbed Natasha with the metal arm. The Widow did not resist, or maybe couldn’t. She slammed the red-head down onto the bed.

“Who is that man?”

Natasha’s eyes slid over to the headless corpse.

“Not that one.”

Natasha met her eyes blankly. “I do not know, Winter Soldier. Who are you talking about?”

The Soldier stared down at her. “I killed the children. And then I remembered a man in a cage. ”

Natasha looked startled—after all, the Winter Soldier had no _(control)_ memories.

“Who is Lohmer—“

And then—

A blond man, large and muscled, smiling at her with such gentleness— _Janie_.

She threw the Black Widow into the wall. The operative flipped, boots hitting the wood and then hitting the ground. She scrambled up, watching the Winter Soldier.

"Who is he?"

"Who are you talking about," Widow replied, quiet, trying to keep calm, circling to keep furniture between them. There was no doubt in her mind--the Soldier could tear her limb from limb.

"Lohmer. And the man--the different man."

"I don't know who Lohmer is."

"Everyone remembers something. Except for me. Who is the blond man?"

"Wh-what does he look like?"

The Soldier started, looked aside. "I don't know."

"Winter Soldier--we should return. We--" Widow tried to dodge--but the Winter Soldier was too fast. Too brutal. She was over the bed and grabbed her by the throat. The backboard against the wall shattered into pieces as Widow's spine met it. The Soldier crunched wood apart, pushing the Widow into it. "Doctors might know!" Black Widow choked. "They--they will know."

"They will never tell me."

"Th-then I will speak to them. I'll get it for you!" Natasha's fingers scrambled uselessly at that metal grip.

Janie Barnes slammed her down onto the bed again. "The blond man--big. Wears a blue uniform." She glared down at the Widow. Something shuddered through the Winter Soldier. "A star...big star on the front..." She swallowed hard. She was _feeling_ something. What was this? Feeling some kind of intensity. No words came to her. She kissed Natasha hard. Pulling the smaller woman to her, hands gripping at her face. How long had it taken the Widow to respond? Jane did not know. But the Widow did, a flurry of zippers, peeled leather body armor. The Soldier grunted again when the Widow palmed a breast. She stripped the Widow.

( _Control._ )

And then terror, her eyes were leaking. The Soldier realized, stupidly, that she was crying. “I killed them…” she managed.

And then the Widow held her, kissed her, made her forget again. Sliding fingers down between her thighs, gently stroking, massaging, knowing and hot and perfect and sliding inside. The metal arm whirled softly, ripping sheets, sliding her middle finger into the Widow, stroking her. The Soldier bit her shoulder.

The Widow gasped. “…Romanov….you---!” Her moan was breathy.

That was the last time she’d ever worked with the Black Widow, Natasha Romanov.

 

 

_Notation: 13 May 1999_

_Attending Lead Physician: Kristoph Levi_

_Subject returned from Prague with a heightened chemical response and scent directly connected to a sexual encounter. The intensity of her reaction suggests flashbacks. Black Widow described her as having extreme aggression after eliminating the family of the Target. Such an act of hostility towards non-mission directives, while not authorized, is occasionally necessary. Subject did not appear to take any pleasure in it--but her disassociation of control left the corpses destroyed. This brutality, need for control, having no other directives in the mission seems to have led to a sexual encounter between the Subject and Black Widow. While such a thing is not unheard of, it is not appropriate for the Asset. The line between rage, control and desire controlled by the Limbic System can be blurred and intensity of emotions can trigger deep memory. Unfortunately, that means the Subject's continuing work and training with Black Widow will have to be suspended._

_Subject will be returned to Cryo-Freeze at approximately 1900._

 

 

“Natasha….” Janie said softly and then, “I killed the children.”

Steve froze.

Natasha got up. “Steve---this isn’t the place.”

“What happened?” Steve demanded.

Natasha went tight-lipped. “Not here, Steve. Take her home.”

“There no safer place in the whole damn city than right here,” Tony said. His fingers gripped into the air, pulling apart so that the hologram blueprint expanded all around them. Then he looked at Jane. “Hey—Jarvis—direct Cap and his friend to one of the other floors.”

“Of course, Sir.”

_Stupid posh English fingers—he wants to run them through your hair, Janie. What does that even mean? Is that like fondue?_

Jane grimaced. “Shut up.”

_I want to be serenaded in French or German before I get shot._

She didn’t remember getting up, she just was. Steve touched her arm. "Don't touch me!"

_You will be the new fist of Hydra!_

And then racking pain, cutting, cutting, cutting—

She slammed her fist into the chair. It wrenched apart like aluminum foil. She was on Tony in a flash, smashing him back into the glass wall. They went through it.

_Secure the asset! Hold her down! Boystrov! Get the syringe—we’ll have to wipe her—start over. Again._

_What can contain these flashbacks?_

_Don’t leave her out of cryo for more than a few days—otherwise you will have to keep wiping her._

_The more we do it, the more unstable she becomes._

_Papa!_

_Shrieks in the darkness._

_Mom! Mama!_

_The wrench of bone coming apart._

_Robert!_

_the scraps of flesh from her left arm_

_\--Steve! Steve--!_

 

Her left arm drew back, slamming into Tony, ripping his shirt, grabbing for the glowing heart. Pulled back again—Tony arrested, body seizing, eyes rolling back and he dropped like a stone. She whipped the arc reactor at the wall—

Bruce was there, big and green, snatching it like a pop fly to left field. He changed back to human in a flash, throwing the reactor to Pepper.

Steve tackled Janie, arm around her throat.

Thor grabbed Tony up, tossing him across the room to the couch like a ragdoll.

“Stop throwing me….” Tony managed but Natasha and Clint were to him in a flash, holding him down while Pepper straddled his thigh to reseat the reactor.

“Steve!” Jane gasped. “Steve!” She struggled. “The mother is dead. Howard and Maria Stark—I killed the children—!“

She passed out.

Steve shuddered, loosening his elbow from around her throat. He gently put her head on the floor. “Tony!” He called, getting up. “You all right?”

Tony was bathed in sweat. “You know, I usually only like that sort of stuff when Pepper does it.”

Thor had his massive arms crossed, looking at the Winter Soldier.

“Shall I still direct Captain Rogers to a secured floor, Sir?”

Tony waved a hand, sinking back into the couch while Pepper combed her fingers through his hair soothingly. “Y-yeah…go for it, Jarvis….”

Bruce's dark eyes tracked the Winter Soldier, standing behind the couch over Tony's head.

Steve pointed at Natasha. “We are going to have a conversation here in a minute.”

The assassin got up from the couch. Thor followed them as Steve lifted the Winter Soldier, carrying her to the elevator. Natasha on his left, Thor on his right. The Prince said nothing, just watched the Soldier.

Jarvis took them down four floors and led them into a suite. It was rather bare compared to the rest of the house—but less to break and smaller windows. Jarvis informed them that the windows were a complex polycarbon gorilla glass. So in theory, the Soldier should not be able to break them with her left arm. No guarantees, of course.

Thor might have felt like he should leave—if he did, he didn’t show it. He sat near the door to the bedroom like some giant menacing God of guarding things. Steve laid the Soldier out on the bed and then walked back into the kitchen. Natasha was already there, ordering up some juice and vodka from Jarvis.

“You gave me the folder on the Soldier. You said the only time you met her was when you were escorting that scientist,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “Now—I need you to tell me the rest. What else do you know about her? She clearly remembers you from some other incident.”

“Steve, you know her brain is scrambled eggs. She—“

“Don’t,” Steve said tersely, raising a hand to cut her off. “Don’t even. The truth, Natasha—now.”

Natasha looked back into the bedroom, where the Soldier was sprawled across the bed. She looked back at Steve. "You better sit down."


	3. Fondue

“You fucking mick,” Janie laughed. She fell back onto the couch, giggling.

“Hey! I’m serious!”

“Because you’re Irish or because you’re Catholic?” Janie grinned at him.

“Both,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows. “That guy is bad news. He’s on the wrong turf, you know. Leftovers from the twenties.”

“I know,” Janie told him, face relaxing. “I heard about it already. Down at the docks—they got a little bit of everyone.”

“You cut your hair like that, Janie—even if you wore my clothes—“

“I’m not wearing your clothes. They’re almost as tight as mine.”

“Regardless! If they find out you’re a girl--!”

“Then what?” Jane asked, putting her ankle on her opposite knee. “What? They try and give me a kiss? Rape me? Offer me a twenty for a backseat jive?”

Steve’s face became very still, eyes hollowing out, horrified. “No, Janie. No. No, I won’t let you.”

“You’re right—they wouldn’t give me a twenty. Maybe a five?”

“Jane!” Steve said and suddenly, there was no joking there, no horror. Anger. Face going white with it.

She sighed and looked away. “I either work at the docks or not at all, Steve. Or I work in the horrible factories and get my fingers ripped off. What else can I do? What—you going to go to my father? He’ll send my brother over here, Rob will take me home so that Pop can beat me himself instead of some stranger at the docks doing it.”

“I work! I make money—I’ve been selling drawings and working down at the corner store—“

Jane crossed her arms. “And what about come winter? You get sick every year. You almost died last December. What would I tell your mother—God rest her soul—if I let you push daisies because of pneumonia.”

“Janie—“

“Don’t. Don’t, Steve. You can either help me or go ahead—tell my drunk mick father and he’ll come by and beat me himself.”

Steve looked down, angry. “Dammit…” he swore softly and got up. “Fine. Tell me what to do.”

She handed him the roll of bandages and turned her back to him. “Help me wrap ‘em—tight as I can stand.”

 

The memory was cold and sharp, looking at Jane A Barnes. JAB. Jabber. Maybe he should switch her nickname to Jabber. Something. Anything else. Anything that doesn’t take him back to shame, guilt, hatred.

The extra money had been welcome—she had struggled with the work, at first, but caught on quickly and built up strength as the weeks passed. Went by Jack—all the men called her Jackie—thinking she was a young and rather small lad.

But then that night had come—

 

Jane panted, shuddering. She shoved her key in the door and turned it, falling into the apartment. She kicked the door shut behind her. She lurched up, grabbing onto the knob and turning the lock, sliding the deadbolt home, leaning against the door.

“Jane?” came Steve’s voice. “J-Jane!” He dropped the saucepan—soup burst around his feet. Steve did not notice, dashing to her. “Janie? What happened? Jane!”

“I’m fine—“

“The hell you are!” Steve grabbed her shoulder. Her face was decorated in blue and black. “Did this happen at the docks? Who did it? Who was it? I’ll kill ‘em! Who was it, Janie!”

“Don’t, Steve….”

“Jane! Don’t protect the scumbag! I’ll get him, I swear it—“

“It was my pop, you idiot,” Jane scowled. “Saw me at the docks, figured I was whorin or something.”

Steve suddenly showed surprising strength, jerking her to face him. Her shirt has been ripped apart, bandages exposed. “Jane…” he said softly, all the anger seeming to evaporate.

“Just…help me up. I’ll go get changed.”

Steve pulled her up, urging her to lean on his thin shoulder and walking back to their shared bedroom. She sat the cot. Steve turned his back to her.

“Always the gentleman…” she scoffed. She took out a hair pin and ripped the bandages apart, strangling a gasp. She hugged her bared breasts, swallowing down the stabbing pains as circulation was restored. “Don’t think my body can take this kind of punishment every day. It’s a bit hard on the, uh—the tissue.”

“Can I…get you anything?”

“No, you can’t really ice ‘em, I guess. You can turn around.”

Steve did and instantly wished he had not. She was still pulling her shirt over her head—he caught a glimpse of a dusky nipple before it was swallowed by green linen.

“Oh sorry,” she chuckled, not really sounding it. “Quick on the turnaround, eh? Wanted to catch a look?”

“No!” Steve denied rapid fire. “Anyway—you aren’t going back to the docks. If your dad knows you work there—he might come back.”

“Yeah, yeah—well, all the men know I’m a girl now anyway. So I’ll have to do something else. Can’t wait to get my fingers ripped off at a factory.”

Steve sat next to her. "I don't want you to have to work..."

"Yeah, well, if wishes were fishes we'd all eat free."

Steve carded his long, skinny fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry you cut all your hair off for nothing."

She smiled a little, looking sidelong at him. 

"Your long hair was real pretty. But--you know--this is nice too."

"Ha, you know how to charm 'em, eh, Stevie?" She leaned on his shoulder. "Maybe the pixie cut will grow on me. At least it won't get caught in any machines."

 

But luck was with her. She was down in the Italian district and managed to score a job at a little theater. She would clean, maintain the stage and sets and occasionally stand in as a background body when they needed one. It didn’t pay all that well—but she did get a free dinner on the nights she worked. The owner’s wife cooked for the whole stage crew every night.

And that was the real treat. Janie didn’t eat at work, but she took plenty, wrapping up everything from chicken wings to potatoes to pies in a towel, stuffing it in her dinner pail. She would haul it back to Steve.

“It’s not stealing!” She insisted. “It’s making good use of resources. I don’t eat much anyway! C’mon, you’re a growin boy.” She spun a whole apple pie around. “Look at that melted caramel. C’mon, Steve. Don’t make me eat all of it. No one will ever buy me a drink again.”

“I’ll buy.” Steve scowled.

“Stevie Wonder.”

“Janie Wonder?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“All right, okay. Fine.” He huffed.

She smiled, beaming at him brightly and then carved him out a hunk of pie. She piled cold chicken on top of it and pushed the mountain of food to him. She smiled more gently, more genuine—watching him eat. Seeing how the color returned to his cheeks and he seemed less faint.

She wanted to reach out, smooth his hair from his eyes, tell him how much she wanted to help him…but she refrained.

 

Now, he never felt faint at all. Not from hunger or weakness but as he listened to Natasha….he had to blink hard. Steadying himself as he held onto the table, at Natasha recounted the night they had worked together.

“She…killed children.”

“You don’t understand, Steve. Only the orders mattered—“

“I get that,” Steve said. He glanced away.

“You don’t.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Steve snapped, glaring at Natasha. “You all seem to really enjoy doing that. I was in Germany for World War Two. I know what horror looks like. I know what it looks like when you open gas chambers full of corpses, still warm. Gassed them just before we entered. I saw men, women and children blows to pieces—lined up like cattle and slaughtered with machine gun fire. For being Jewish, or homosexual, or mentally retarded. There are the Unit 731 camps operated by the Japanese—if you went there as POW, you weren’t coming out. They did horrible experiments on people. Just like the Nazis. I _saw_ the death camps. I _saw_ the brutality. And when I was in Europe, I always went first. You act like I’ve never killed someone before.”

“Steve—what you did and what we did is not the same—“

“Killing is still killing,” Steve glared at her. “And I killed a lot of people. But I’m not proud of it like you are.”

“I am not—“

“You are—you won’t admit it. But I’m not. And Jane isn’t either. Jane Barnes didn’t murder defenseless children. That was Hydra, that was Zola and his experiments—of using her like a goddamn macaroni strainer—just see what takes and what falls through. Are you proud of that too, Natasha?”

Natasha glanced aside. She _did_ come off sometimes like she was so desperately proud of being brought up to kill without asking questions.

“I try hard to be a good man. It doesn’t always work. But I’m not innocent and I’m not naïve—not when it comes to war.”

Natasha’s lip thinned. “…I’m sorry. Steve, I didn’t mean…to…” she gestured uselessly.

Steve shook his head and sighed deeply. “It’s all right. I’m...I....sorry for…snapping at you.”

Natasha took a breath. “Of all the things I learned about the Winter Soldier—the KGB called it the Sacrifice. She sacrificed everything and became the ultimate weapon. She didn’t jam, run out of bullets, run out of ways to kill. They’d wake her up, teach her something, put her right out again. They wanted to send her out into Siberia for nuclear weapons tests—that was where Zola drew the line. They did everything else imaginable to her—except see how her body stood up to nuclear weapons. When they wanted to test how fast she healed, they unfroze her, got her out, broke some bones or something—and then stuffed her back in. She doesn’t heal as fast as you.”

Steve looked back into the bedroom. For a second, he just stared stupidly. Then his stomach dropped. “Where is she?!” He jumped up, flipped the table back.

Thor lurched up, turning around to look. The bed was empty. He dashed inside, just barely dodged a ceramic vase. It shattered on the wall. Jane grabbed two hunks of needle-sharp ceramic. She slashed at Thor. It reminded the prince, unpleasantly, of Loki. The hammer came out in one fist—but she didn’t wait for him to swing it. She planted a foot on his knee and vaulted up onto his arm, swinging over to his shoulders. Grabbed his forehead to pull his chin back, driving inward with the ceramic—

And then Steve was smashing into them, grabbing her around the waist and throwing her back onto the bed. He pinned her to it, watching her face curl into a snarl. “All right?”

Thor put his hammer back at his hip. “Yes.”

“Janie,” Steve grunted, shifting to try and keep hold of her. “I don’t want to have to strap you down! Jane!”

Her eyes were wide—fear—desperation on her. She stared up at him, the growling lessened, disappeared. “Jane,” she repeated.

“You are Jane Austen Barnes.”

Suddenly, she looked confused again. “…her mother’s favorite author.”

“Your mother. Your mother’s favorite author.”

“Potato-muncher spaghetti girl.”

Steve mouth thinned. “Not anymore. No one says those things anymore.”

 

To her, she saw the large blond man transform right in front of her--a small, slip of a young man. Instantly all the fight went out of her, sinking back into the mattress. “Steve…” she muttered, staring at him. “Steve Rogers….”

_At the theater,_

_Saw him in the audience. Gotten him free tickets. He was drawing the actresses. He loved the arts. She was up on a ladder behind the stage, prepping to drop the next sets._

Prepping the drop _(control)_ , she would be late that night—for cleanup after the show. Not because of Thomas Graccione who insisted. Insisted. Grabbed her by the hair _(control)_ , yanked her into the alley. Another slap, another. Another.

_Not your face, doll. Not your face. Can’t mar up that pretty damn face. You’ll make some prick a nice cunt won’t you?_

Cold steel sunk five inches into his gut _(blood)_ and then his wallet was there. Smooth, warm leather, smelling of the market district. Day job as a gunsmither, leatherworker. Night job at the theater as an actor.

And something else. Fat wallet, fat with money _(blood)_ , pin-up photos. Took the whole wad of cash.

_My lucky day._

Felt that more than made up for the bruises under her shirt.

 She brought Steve dinner in the pail, stuffed with cheese, bread, chicken, steak, strawberry rhubarb pie—a successful show, a bowl of pasta and at the very bottom, the wad of bills. Steve’s art classes first, stock up on medicine for the winter, coal for the stove, bolts of thick cotton and muslin in white and green and blue and red to make quilts. New coat for Steve. Yarn. She hated knitting, hated sewing but glad she knew how—new wool socks for them. Sacks of potatoes for the second generation Irish mutts.

 

_You fucking mutt. Filthy mongrel American whore. Irish-Italian, are you? You fucking--_

 

Jane’s eye cleared. “Steve!” she said suddenly and lurched up, grabbing into his shoulders. “Steve! We’re both—Irish mutts. We both—we both…we….”

“Liked potatoes.” Steve smiled a little, something painful in his eyes.

She embraced him. After a moment, he relaxed into it, wrapping his big arms around her.

“It wasn’t my money,” she said. “He tried to hurt me, I stabbed him and I took his wallet.”

“Janie…”

“Didn’t hit my face. Didn’t want to mar up my face.”

Steve was confused. “Janie…who...whatever it was…it’s…”

“What _is_ the past?” she asked him quietly. “Events we remember? Events someone else remembers?”

“You know me,” Steve told her, staring into those green-blue eyes. “You know me. I know you do. That’s the past. What matters even more is right now. We’re gonna help you.”

“Steve…”

He furrowed his eyebrows, frowning. “Janie Wonder.”

“Stevie Wonder,” she said automatically and started a little. She looked at him. “That’s a singer.”

“Oh. Is it?” Steve smiled a little.

“Will you draw….?” She asked softly.

“Of course…” Steve said. He gently got up, moving off of her to sit on the edge of the bed. Natasha brought him some computer paper.

“What will you draw?”

He smiled at her. “Janie Wonder…I think. Superhero Combat Sniper Medic. Sounds good?”

She looked at him for a long moment and then down to watch the figure emerge onto the snowy paper. “What is…fondue?”

Steve stuttered on a laugh, almost smudging a line. “Bread and cheese, my friend. Bread and cheese.”

 

 

 

”Really? Oh, Stevie-honey—you thought fondue was some kind of…innuendo? Honestly, Carter overreacted—but only because she wants you so hard.”

“Stark told me what it meant later.”

“How did I fail you this much, Steve? You thought they were fondue-ing. I see now why Stark doesn't spare me a sideways glance. Not with him and Carter fondue-ing. Oh my God.”

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m laughing.”

“Quit it!” he insisted.

“Imagine if I’d kissed you—then she really would have over-reacted and we could just fondue our way out of Germany.”

“Stoppit, Janie!”

“Are you blushing? Awww, Stevie Wonder! You’re so cute!”

“Jane!”


	4. Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane Austen Barnes/James Montgomery Falsworth

_When Janie Barnes first met Steve Rogers in the playgrounds of Brooklyn, little did she know that she was forging a bond that would take her to the battlefields of Europe and beyond._

 

_  
Jane Austen “Janie Wonder” Barnes_

_Born in 1917, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army Nursing Core shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training Barnes was shipped out to the Italian front, where she was stationed with the 107th._

_Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, depravation and torture. But her will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, the prison camp was liberated by none other than her childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America._

_Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, the Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughought the European Theatre. Barnes was considered the first female to be fully integrated into an active combat unit and would set the stage for the future of female roles in the military_

_Janie Barnes  
1917 - 1944_

 

Peggy Carter looked up. “Yes, Nurse?

“You know, everyone else calls me ‘Jane’ or ‘Sergeant’ now? I never got an officer commission as a nurse, former-Lieutenant Carter.”

“Then it sounds like we are about the same rank, I suppose.” Carter told her, standing up. “What can I do for you, Ms Barnes?”

Jane shut the door to the research room. It put the both of them in the dim light, one flickering lightbulb. Alone. “I wanna talk to you about Steve.”

“Is there an issue with Captain Rogers? You will have to take it up with the Colonel.”

“Hey—Carter. It’s obvious how bad you want him.”

Carter did a double-take, almost dropped her teacup. “That is too presumptuous—“

“Don’t. Let’s level, Carter. We’re both ladies here. Dames, birds, dolls—killers, whatever they say in London. Cut Steve a break. I heard about how you overreacted—“

“I should hardly think I—“

Jane raised her eyebrows. “Steve is too polite to tell you to knock it off. But I ain’t--cause I ain't a lady or a gentleman. Steve and I have been friends since we was kids. We grew up together. We took—looked after each other. For you to accuse him of sleeping around because a woman he didn’t know kissed him—that was cruel. Made him feel like he did something wrong—and he didn’t. That stupid girl kissed him. She shoulda been more professional—and yet you insulted him. And he’s been nothin but respectful to you. You met him right after I shipped out—you know how skinny he was. How small and frail—how difficult it is for him to talk to others. There was never a guy more humble or polite than him. You know how many women paid attention to him before you? None. Except for me. He’s never been flirted with. He’s never even kissed a girl—and now he’s got flocks of them chasing him around. He doesn’t know what to do—he’s not Howard Stark. Spent twenty-five years getting told he’s nothing—and now all of a sudden he’s America’s Golden Boy. So instead of getting all jealous and pissed off, why don’t you look at it from his perspective instead of acting like a twat.”

Carter’s eyebrows shot up. And then she looked aside. She seemed to think a moment before looking back at Jane. “I apologize. I didn’t know you felt so strongly.”

Jane’s nose wrinkled. “He’s my best friend. He’s already forgiven you. In fact--no, he never even thought there was anything to forgive you for. He puts the blame on himself. Steve is pretty straight-forward and I would appreciate it if you could do the same for him. He’s no good at guessing games.”

Carter examined her, leaning on the writing desk. “Is that why he’s never guessed?”

“That you like him? Probably. He still thinks of himself like he doesn’t have a chance—“

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

Jane’s eyes narrowed.

Carter’s eyebrows raised. “Did it start after the serum?”

Jane jerked back. “What! Hey, I just said we’ve known each other—“

“Yes, I can tell,” Peggy said, crossing her arms. “So before the serum then.”

Jane’s shoulders bristled. “Look, broad, I didn’t come here to talk about me. I respect you. You got the Colonel to let me run with the Commandoes. Not that I needed his damn permission. But you helped make it all official. You made sure I had access to the training I needed.”

“And the uniform that Falsworth brought you,” Peggy added.

“Y-yeah,” Jane snapped—hadn’t actually known that. She waved a hand like it didn’t matter. “I respect you. But don’t change the damn subject. He—“

“I’m not,” and something in Carter seemed to gentle, settle. “I understand, Jane. He’s a good man. You loved him long before this, didn’t you.”

Jane’s lips thinned dangerously.

Carter nodded a little. “It’s all right. I won’t tell him. And I respect that you’ve come to me.”

“You know how he feels about you,” Jane said, sighing softly, face going neutral. “It couldn’t be more obvious. Just the way he looks at you. How he’s speechless when he tries to talk to you in front of others. He’s so shy, Peg. And uncertain. He's never had this before. He's innocent in this. He's never had girlfriends or anything. He’s falling for you. And you couldn’t find a man more devoted, more loyal. When he looks at you...” Jane looked aside, at the ground. "He just....you know?"

“I know,” Peg replied, looking a little ashamed suddenly. “I’m sorry. I suppose my…sensibilities or something. I did not know…how to react.”

“Just…give him a chance. Cut him some slack. He deserves it. He really does. I want him to be happy. That's what matters. Give him a chance.”

“I will. Thank you, Sergeant Barnes. Jane.”

Jane rubbed her arm. “Yeah, well. This stays between us.” She turned around and walked out.

The door slammed shut.

 

Jane sat in the bar. Steve was talking to the other men. She gulped her whiskey, feeling a hard, black, ugly anger. Stupid fucking Carter and her stupid damn…stupid intuition. British bint. Bitch. Cunt.

She gulped again. Well, then again, it wasn’t Carter’s fault, really. Women could see these sorts of things in each other---just like men saw in each other, she supposed. And Carter was another woman surrounded by all these men. She was Steve’s best friend and Carter was…well. Steve’s girl.

Something about that hurt a little. Steve’s girl.

“I’m an idiot…” she murmured. She had always been fond of Steve. Always wanted to protect him, help him…hadn’t even considered that she might be…well, _in love_ with him. Was she so shallow to only notice it now—now that Steve was a walking Olympic god and famous symbol for the Allied powers? “I ain’t that horrible,” she grumbled, pouring more whiskey.

She vaguely remembered Steve coming by to speak to her but at that point, she’d had so much whiskey that she couldn’t focus on what he was saying. Something about Carter and the Commandoes and there was a brief tomorrow? Whatever.

She didn’t register Steve’s concerned look. “Maybe you should come back with us, Jane.”

She shook her head. “M’fine,” she said, not looking at him.

“Jane….are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fu—I’m fine, Steve. Go on, they’re waiting for you.”

_…you out here whorin girl? You leave home to live with that Rogers boy and now you’re whorin at the docks like some prostitute—I’ll beat you bloody--_

Her grip tightened on her glass. She wasn’t sure when Steve left, just registered that he was gone. She rolled herself a cigarette—someone demanded tobacco in a husky voice by her ear. She shoved him away. “Fuck off.”

“Stingy bitch.”

She drug a hand through her short hair and then was up. Her long coat snapped at her ankles and she sunk her fist into the man’s face. Bar fights were typically short and brutal—someone threw them outside—

She kicked him in the gut. He backhanded her. “Oh, wait—it’s you. The Sniper—Rogers’ little whore, yeah?”

_…whoring at the docks…_

_Stupid filthy American slut…_

She jumped on him, blood covered her fist. And then her back hit the ground so hard that it winded her. The man ripped her shirt open. “Commandoes keep you howling, you cunt?”

Janie flattered her fingers and brought the heel of her palm down, snapping it into his temple—

Or would have—if someone hadn’t moved him.

Steve was there, pupils of his eyes big and blow wide. Grabbing the man, slamming him into the wall. He was saying something to the man, Janie didn’t even register. She staggered up. “No…Steve…”

Steve did not seem to hear her. Over and over, smashing his brutal fist into the man’s face.

“Steve…” she said, trying to say it louder, only coming as a choked whisper.

She heard a gagging gasp of breath. “Steve…” she said, warningly—not realizing it was her own breathing.

He dropped the man and turned to her. “Janie—Jane—are you okay?!” He grabbed her shoulders.

But she seemed to ignore his question. “Steve, be careful—the asthma, Steve…if you get too excited…slow down…slow down, you’ll have an attack.”

Something crossed Steve’s face. He touched Jane’s forehead. “C’mon, geez, you brat.”

“You—“

“I ain’t gonna have an attack. Now, geez…” He pulled her shirt back together and picked her up, carrying her back to the barracks. She shared a separate little building with Carter. He had a quick, angry, murmured conversation with Carter that Jane did not really comprehend. And then Steve carried her inside.

“Don’t Steve,” she murmured. “Your lungs…Steve..”

 

She woke up about four hours later. She panted hard, took her a second of looking around to realize she was in her bed. She got up quickly, shoes on and hurrying outside. She threw up behind the building and drank a cup of water. She brushed her teeth and grabbed her tobacco and papers.

It was still dark. She could see the lump of Agent Carter asleep in her own cot. Janie walked out to the smoke pit, where Falsworth was smoking too. He did a slight double-take. “Heard you, uh…had a night. Don’t worry about the lad who hit you—Captain took care of him.”

Jane’s mouth opened and then closed. She smiled. “I actually don’t remember.”

Falsworth looked at her and shrugged. “I see, then.”

She sat down next to him to roll a cigarette.

“Janie…,” said Falsworth softly.

That accent, it made her annoyed and hot at the same time. She looked at James. “What?”

“You’re shredding your paper. You want me to do it?”

Jane licked her upper lip. She leaned up to James Falsworth and kissed him.

She felt him stiffen, the wool of his English uniform scratched against her arms. His hand grabbed into her skin, cupping her neck. Up into her hair, dragging thick calloused fingers through it. His other hand went to her waist, pulling her in.

She got up into his lap, hands dragging up his chest, opening that wool jacket. He cupped her thighs so he could stand from the bench, stumbling into the wall of the barracks. Her back hit the siding and one hand wrenched up, dragging open her shirt again.

She gasped softly when he cupped her breast, thumbing the nipple and massaging it. Her spine arched against the building and his nose buried itself in her neck, kissing down to suck on that nipple. Suckling hard, soft, then hard again.

“James…” she breathed softly.

He grunted and pulled her to him again, carrying her.

They were in the woods then. He dropped to his knees. “Keep your thighs around me,” he told her as he tugged the long coat loose and laid it on the dirt. He leaned forward, settling her onto it and went down again, sucking her nipple. His hands pulled her shirt all the way open, untucking it from her trousers. His hands were so calloused, felt wonderful, opening up her trousers and pulling them down, following with his mouth. That stupid, wonderful English mouth, kissing down to her hip, thigh, sliding his tongue inward to taste her. She moaned again and he seemed to drink it up, lapping at her, holding onto her hips as his tongue slid into her.

And then pressing against her mouth, his tongue slick and salty. She moaned, he answered it, grunting at he jerked his belt open and she helped him pull it off.

“C’mon,” she breathed, soft. 

He sat back to get his boots off and she sat up, kicking off her shoes and moving up, catlike, between his legs. She jerked his trousers down, no doubt disrupting his concentration as he tried to get his left boot off. He nearly ripped the seam when she grabbed his cock. “Always heard the English were pretty good, eh? More than just an accent,” she smirked, running her palm up his cock.

“J-Janie…” he murmured, getting his boots off, shoving his trousers down the rest of the way.

She straddled his lap. He cupped her hips with his hands and helped guild her, sinking her down on his cock.

“Oh,” she breathed, closing her eyes as he filled her. Her spine arched and his hands went reverently up her back. “Oh, James…”

He rolled up into her, mouth finding her throat, her rocking pulse. “J-Jane—“

“God save the King and all that shit,” Janie said huskily, smirking down at him.

He grinned, smirking in that way he did and surged up, putting her on her back and thrust all the way, hard and deep. His eyes were so wide and dark, rocking hips into her, deep, thorough, slow. Her fingers went into his well-combed hair, mussing it, disrupting the order of it, making it stick up everywhere.

His mouth grabbed hers, dominating, rough from his stubble. They breathed into each other. The wool scratched her bare back and his mouth went back to her breast as he rocked in, slow and deep. Frenzied nerves, slow control of his thrusts. Her eyes rolled back, her mind blissfully emptied out—empty of pain, memory, flashbacks. Empty of voices, of Carter, of Steve…Steve….

James shifted her hips slightly into the air and his cock brushed—

“Ah!” She moaned, hips jerking.

His voice, so low and deep and—thrust into her harder, faster. “Feel lovely, poppet. Stay with me.”

“Ah… _ah_ \--!”

“Oh….” He murmured to her. “S’lovely.” One hand went to her hip, the other to her shoulder. His hips snapped and he grunted, strangling it as he came inside of her, kept moving, hand sliding over to brush her entrance—made her come hard and sharp.

She moaned into his mouth. “Ja _mes_!”

Her eyes closed, opening again to gaze at the moon. James sat up on his knees, suddenly looking a bit awkward. “Er…I…apologize, Miss Barnes—I would normally not ever have…not so…ah, abruptly, nor quickly…I….”

Jane shook her head. “It’s all right…I kissed you, remember?”

“Ah, yes—I simply…ah—if we could keep this between us—I’m afraid the Captain would skin me if he found out.”

Janie did something of a double-take. “Why? He’s got it bad for Carter. Not me. I’m his friend, not his girlfriend or his sister. He doesn’t owe me anything.”

James’ head tilted to the side just a touch, like he had at her claiming to remember nothing. “….I see. Of course.”

They did not speak as they dressed. He folded his coat over his arm and checked her hair for her. “I, ah—should go and have this…washed. At the river, I think.”

Janie looked at the coat. “Yeah, good call, Ja—Falsworth.”

He headed for the river. She headed for the barracks. Back to her tobacco and papers. She rolled a cigarette….and then put it away, slumping back to her bed.

 

 

Peggy Carter was now in her nineties. She’d lived a long, full life after Steve had perished in the ice. But something about her was still achingly familiar. Something just out of reach that the Winter Soldier had trouble comprehending. She stood next to Steve quietly.

Captain America wore jeans and a t-shirt, his jacket and that sad look he’d carried from the pre-serum days. Always trying, always failure.

Jane had been dressed by Pepper this morning—with Natasha there for safety’s sake. (“It’s not that I don’t trust her,” said Tony, “I just don’t trust her. Gotta protect her from Pepper.”)

She was wearing jeans too, her tank-top, but a clean t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie. She didn’t like being here. It smelled like death, old skin, piss, medicine.

But being in front of this old woman—well, it was confusing until she spoke.

And then instantly, Janie breathed in sharp and deep. “Agent Carter…,” she murmured, tilting her head. It seemed like her and yet did not.

“She’s aged while we were…in stasis,” Steve said, “but you remember her voice, don’t you?”

Peggy looked at Steve—those intelligent dark eyes sliding over to Jane. “I remember you, Janie Wonder. Jane Barnes. You were a combat nurse who talked me into talking the Colonel into letting you join the Commandos. Not that you needed his permission. You would have followed Steve anyway. He was your best friend. Like your brother.”

“Brother…” she said softly and looked out the window. “I have brothers. I have two brothers and a sister.” She looked at Steve sharply.

“Your brothers died in the nineties. Your sister…died last year.”

Janie took a deep breath. Steve touched her back to steady her. He kept his hand on her when she sank down in a chair to sit.

_….don’t tell Steve…._

_You will become the new fist of Hydra!_

_Stays between us._

_Between us._

“Between us…” she murmured, eyes locking on Carter. “Between us…?” she said again.

“What?” Steve asked gently. “What’s between us?”

“Not you. Me. And her. Between us.”

“What was?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t remember.”


	5. Only the Good Die Young

She was wicked fast. But it was always a work in progress with her. For years, they couldn’t release her at all. It was time that wore her down—nevermind the torture, the pain—it was time. They didn’t figure out cold stasis for few years until after they had taken her to that horrid lab. The conditioning had all been in Russian, forcing her to either learn it or constantly be guessing about the next horrific tests they were planning.

At the lab they had managed to connect the metal arm. They cut the remains of her left one off—ragged ends of muscle and bone, seizing pain when the saw whirled into life and then grafting the metal plate into her shoulder, the module that connected the whole mess together. Connecting bone to metal, nerves to wire. And then attaching the arm unit to the module.

The first arm barely worked and was excruciatingly heavy and painful. It fractured her collarbone within a week. And snapped it the week after. But the arm was strong. Late in the night, she opened her eyes. Her face was thin and drawn, haunted. She had no idea what day it was, what month, not even what year. The days had all begun to blend together, occasional glimpses of sunlight but mostly dim, flickering lightbulbs in the lab.

Never knowing the time bothered her more than she thought it would. No indication of day or night. Nothing felt real. They strapped her down when they left--so perhaps that was the night.

And she had spent days feigning weakness so they would not realize how strong the arm was. Her eyes shifted, green in the darkness.

She strangled a groan, snapping the strap off her left arm. She went quiet, still, listening. Heard nothing. She pulled the left arm over. The fingers still hardly functioned—but it was enough to loosen the right strap enough to yank her hand out. In a flash, she was unbolting her torso, her neck, head and then sitting up to unstrap her feet. She swung them over the side of the horrible chair. The floor was ice cold. Her toes touched it and then she stood up.

 

Too fast, dizziness struck like a tire iron and she grabbed onto the machines. She was afraid her muscles might have atrophied but they appeared to be using shock therapy to keep them active. She staggered, holding onto the chair, using it to walk herself around. They gave her linen trousers—but that was it—they didn’t care about her modesty or dignity. She was just a thing, after all. She wrapped the sheet around her shoulders to ward off the chill.

It took some maneuvering to get her body into the air duct. They were big and dusty—but her body felt unbalanced, clumsy. She pulled herself in with the left arm, gritting her teeth, gritting her eyes, wiping tears of strain on the sheet. She slid through the ducts, pushing herself, pulling, sliding against the metal. The seam between metal and flesh tore. She was eeking blood into the duct. She shuddered, strangling back a sob. No, no, don’t, don't panic—she could make it. She could make it.

The duct ended near a prep room. Below her, the night guards were pulling on gear. Everyone was silent—that struck her as odd. Even soldiers might idly chat and converse before going on a watch or shift. But not these goons—they were silent.

She caught sight of a calendar—her heart stopped. Underneath a lovely photograph of some wild lilies:

_February, 1950_

“Five years,” she whispered. “It’s been….five years?” That seemed impossible. How could she have been here that long….

She shook herself. “C’mon, Janie Wonder…”

She was quiet for a moment, then, "Yeah, Stevie Wonder...."

 

She waited for the night guards to leave before removing the panel with the left arm. As painful as it was, heavy and awkward—she would never have been able to open it with her flesh fingers. She grabbed onto the ledge with the metal arm and flipped herself down. Her feet jarred, sending shocks of pain up her ankles. Her head spun—she fell, swimming back to alertness, fighting the urge to collapse.

She drug herself over to a locker and forced it open. There was gear inside, clothes and a rifle. She grit her teeth, pulling the clothes to her. Dressing was slow and painful. Nothing wanted to fit over the metal arm—and she eventually had to tear the left sleeve off entirely. Trousers then, cotton and leather, tough and waterproof, from the look of them.

It had never felt so amazing to put socks on in her whole life. Even in the bitter cold of Brooklyn’s deep winters—it had never felt so amazing as it did now. Boots—too big for her, but that hardly mattered. She dug through the locker, hoping for a map—some indication of where the hell she was—but nothing.

Her hair had grown, ragged and unkempt. She wanted to pull it back but couldn’t—so she took one of the combat knives—she’d saw it off once she got outside.

Oh, she didn’t want to think about what awaited her outside. If it truly was February…that didn’t bode well.

But if it came to either staying here or taking her chances somewhere in the snow—she’d take her chances. After all, out there she could only die once.

 

She did her best to hold her weapon at low-ready, butt near her shoulder, mimicking as best she could until she reached another door. She felt weak as a kitten and the arm was a constant, throbbing pain. Blood was already seeping into the stolen gear. A sniper rifle had never felt so heavy before.

 _When I get home, Steve…I’m going to hug you so damn tight. Never let you go. Tell you how I feel and everything else be damned. I ain’t gonna try to bust you and Carter apart—nothing like that. But I can’t not tell you. Not after this. Goddammit Steve…I’ll tell you everything. How I secretly always wanted a big, pretty wedding with a beautiful dress and bridesmaids. How I hate snakes and raccoons. How being in the dark scares the bejesus out of me and always has—even though I’m in my twenties now. How I wanted to help my dad, even though he was drunk all the time—and my poor mother, how much I hated Jane Austen novels. And Robert, Joseph and Rebecca…I never resented Rob—he just did what papa told him to. I hope he isn’t drinking like papa. I want to tell you that I adored you before the serum and every time I told you that you were a better man, I meant it. But after the serum—Carter told me that it was obvious I cared about your stupid ass._ Still difficult to even think the word ‘love’. _I ain’t shallow. I…loved you before that. But when you got all muscled-up…suddenly everyone seemed to realize what I’ve always know--_

 

She had to shake herself, bracing into a shadowy corner when a couple of jackbooted Hydra thugs passed by. Slipping out and found an outside door. She glanced around and then opened it, prepping a smile, prepping to act like she belonged here. The best way to sneak in was not to sneak at all. Sneaking out was the same.

It was strange that the entire blotch of outdoor area seemed deserted. It was fenced off about a hundred feet away—and it certainly occurred to her that something seemed off…

But just being outside—where the cold took her breath away and she looked up—could see the Aurora Borealis, which she’d never seen in her whole life. It was so beautiful. So painfully beautiful.

It would be that second of distracted—she sensed their presence before actually seeing anyone. She whirled around.

Zola stood in the doorway. “Good to see that the arm is functioning well for you, Nurse Barnes. Now if you could—“

She took off. Sprinting across the snow towards the fence. Cursing the too-large boots, she pounced at the fencing, started climbing. A bullet charged deep into her right shoulder. She groaned, gritting her teeth, hanging on, pulling herself up another foot—

  
The thugs, Zola—none of them even ran to her. They strolled out into the dark night, into the snow. Casually sauntering up to the fence like it was Sunday in Central Park. That was worse—at least if they were running, she’d feel like they thought she had a chance to escape.

Another bullet burned into her thigh. Aiming only to disable, not to kill.

Someone grabbed her boot. She tried to kick him away—another grabbed her hip, yanking forward into the air and slamming her into the snow on her back.

“No! NO!” She shrieked, fighting, flailing, grabbing the knife—stabbing two before someone shocked her with a cattle prod. Her eyes were swimming, terror—looking into the aurora.

The Aurora looked back.

She screamed. They drug her bleeding body back into the compound. The brightness of the snow, the moonlight, the aurora, winked out. Like it had never existed at all.

Zola smiled. “Morich—phone Moscow and tell them that their Christmas deadline has come on time—the left arm is ready for further experimentation.”

The screaming echoed long and loud over the tundra.

 

 

Long and loud in the tower—

Her eyes flew open. “Steve!” She cried out and grabbed him by his shoulder. “Steve! I thought I was still there! I escaped and dreamed that I’d been taken back and I don’t know how—how did you find me in the tundra? Is it really 1950? Is it really February? What happened to Zola? Are you okay? The serum kept, eh? Still strong? I love you,” she burst out, tears flooded in her eyes. “I love you. I’m sorry I never told you—but I’m not telling you to mess up your thing with Carter—I just had to tell you. I’m sorry. I just…I just…” She was gasping for air.

Something in Steve seemed to fracture. Blue in his eyes shattering apart and coming back together, face going pale.

Her breath slowed and she looked at the metal arm. Her breathing became silent. The arm was totally different now….so light, so flexible—

She shuddered, hugging herself. “It’s not….”

_Wrong year. Wrong timeline. Wrong memory._

“No,” Steve said quietly. “It’s not…” His hands shook a little. “It’s all right, Jane…just lay down. Relax…”

She allowed him to urge her to lie back. “….I tried to escape…” she whispered.

Steve touched her hair, gently combing his fingers through it.

“Then they finally got the Cryo-freezing correct.” Her eyes hollowed out, numb. “Better arm. Better Russian. Training other KGB functionals…the Cold War….I…”

“Jane…” murmured Steve, closing his eyes.

“When you and Natasha found the original SHIELD base at Camp Leigh—why did she ask who Carter was?”

Steve started. “W-what?”

“I saw the footage. They showed it to me. Wanted me to find you. You walked up to the photographs. Howard Stark. And then Natasha asked you who Peggy Carter was. _Who is the girl?_ That doesn’t make any sense. She of all people should know who Peggy Carter is.”

Steve narrowed his eyes—hadn’t even _thought_ of that. “I dunno, Jane. Maybe she was just looking for my reaction.”

Jane looked away. “I see.”

They were quiet for a few moments and then:

“Brooklyn in February was bitter cold. But beautiful.” Jane looked at her metal hand. “….I took you ice skating.”

“I fell a lot.”

“Didn’t matter. I gave you medicine and hot tea and whiskey with honey afterwards.”

“I threw up.”

Jane looked up at Steve. “You were frozen…but not like I was. You brought down the ship into the ice and saved people. They didn’t find you for seventy years.”

“Yeah…ha, they even tried to play it off like it was still the forties at first.”

“I was woken up at times in those years. I suppose that means I’m still older than you.”

Steve choked on a laugh, not expecting that. “Yeah, I’m ninety-five, you’re ninety-six. You haven’t aged a day. For your next birthday--I'll get you a cane with flames on it.”

Jane smiled.

It took Steve’s breath away, because the smile was genuine, it meant something. Not the cold calculation of the Soldier but something that was _Jane_. An expression. A real emotion.

“Jane…” he smiled back, carefully.

Jane looked down and then back at him. “I…I don’t remember a lot of things…but they’re coming back. Some of them are horrible…I did…terrible things….but I remember some other things too….”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“One time…I was waiting to be picked up for a mission. I was…in someone’s house. I don’t remember what made me do it…but I went to their freezer. I tried all their ice cream cartons. They had chocolate chip and chocolate chip mint and double-chocolate chocolate with caramel….the last one made me kind of sick, I think.”

Steve rubbed his eyes, chuckling. “You love chocolate--you always have,” he told her, grinning, trying to blink away the dampness in his eyes.

She reached up with a corner of the sheet, wiping his cheek. “Don’t cry—you’ll have an asthma attack.”

Something in Steve finally seemed to break, like looking at Peggy the first time after he’d been woken up. Telling her she was still his best girl, waiting for a dance. It was like that—only for Janie. For Janie…

He leaned forward and grabbed her, burying his nose in her hair. He braced her back with his large palms. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, Steve—don’t—“

“I’m sorry. If I had just—I meant to. I wanted to. I couldn’t find you. I had them search, I searched—I couldn’t get to you…I thought you were dead…but then I had the final mission and then the ice and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jane felt his big shoulders shake. At least Jane hadn’t really ever been aware of herself for the last years. But as soon as Steve awoke, he woke for good…and everyone was dead, gone, changed. The hand dealt to him was so unfair. There truly was no God.

“Janie…say something….”

She looked up at him. “I’m….sorry. For everything. Everything I never told you. For your rotten luck. For Tony Stark’s ego.”

Steve gave her a watery chuckle.

She hugged him, for real this time, breathed him in. “I was never honest. I always wanted to be like you. But I couldn’t.” She closed her eyes. “I wanted it—how honest you were, what a good man you were. I wanted to be like you. A good person. But I could never quite get there. And then after Hydra took me…”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I guess I know that…but…it still feels that way….”

“Like Tony’ s ego?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Like his ego.”

 _Because I killed his parents,_ she realized suddenly.

Steve felt her tense up. He pulled back and looked at her, eyebrows furrowing as she suddenly went very pale. Jane shook her head, tightening her mouth. "S'nothing...just remembered something...."

 

Sam came in later—just returning from his own mission—to check on them. He leaned against the doorframe. Steve was in the bed, on top of the blankets. His giant frame took up most of one side—made that scary Winter Soldier look so tiny by comparison. Steve was asleep. He had an arm around the Winter Soldier. She was braced against Steve’s shoulder. Sam thought Jane Barnes looked asleep—but he didn’t trust her to be. He kept careful distance from the two of them and then left, gently closing the door behind him.


	6. Robot Boogie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis appear!
> 
>  
> 
> I was a History Major college. We used to call the Poli-sci students our evil twins. Because what we study is very similar--just Poli-Sci gets all the nitty-gritty politics. History's darkside.
> 
>  
> 
> In which, Darcy and Bruce high-five.
> 
> Tin Can Hit Man: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivjTbhPbQTE
> 
> I can't seem to find a thing for the full song anywhere, except for this music video for FLCL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQThpgkWJ6M
> 
> Flight of the Conchords, Robots: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IPAOxrH7Ro
> 
> Epic Rap battle, Bill Nye vs Isaac Newton: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8yis7GzlXNM  
> Epic Rap Battle, Rasputin vs Stalin : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZT2z0nrsQ8o
> 
> The Ragnarok of Rock: Let's Discuss | LOKI : http://youtu.be/AATIEQ9FjJY?list=UU6cyxcwPq2pn9f6KKw_01zQ
> 
>  
> 
> X-Men. What a silly name.

_Notations: 04 December 1947_

_Attending Lead Physician: Doctor Vladir Misha_

_Subject will be fitted with the first prototype prosthetic tomorrow at noon. Hydra wants conclusive strength testing by the end of the year._

_Zola came in today and changed all the calendars—he did not say why, exactly, only that it was important for the Subject._

_We all received notations that Project Sirius will continue but Zola has decided to change the method—we will know more after the first of the year._

 

Jane sat in Stark’s chair. This one was wood and had a soft cushion on the seat. She didn’t move once she sat down, careful of spooking Stark. She remembered the elder Stark, vaguely. Tony and Howard had the same hair, that same cocky curl in his lip. But Tony had his mother’s gaze, those brown eyes. Jane had only seen them once—and in the heat of the mission. Maria and Howard were good showfolk. Excellent at playing the game, they danced the nights away in Havana, in Vegas, in Paris, riding the end of the war and their contributions to it high into the fifties. To the age of technology, accelerating at a fanatical pace.

But too much. They knew too much. Maria was just as tech savvy as Howard and she uncovered the files initially. Howard and Maria had spent long hours looking at it from all angles. How would they know who to trust? How would they know who was Hydra? _Had_ Steve Rogers dunked himself into the ocean for nothing?

“That’s a sad damn story,” Howard shook his head, folding his hands as he leaned against the wall, looking at Maria.

Her mouth set a hard line. Her dark eyes met his. “To be able to engineer political discord….”

“1953, Stalin,” Howard said and his eyes seemed to detach.

Maria’s face hollowed out. “And the Cold War….Berlin, Kennedy….”

Howard sat down slowly. He took out his cigarettes from his vest pocket. He offered one to Maria first and then took one for himself. “Surely not Peggy Carter. She can’t be Hydra…”

“How do we tell Carter?” Maria mused, brushing her fingers over the photograph on the side table, touching Tony’s dark hair through cool glass. She gazed out the window.

She didn’t know that Hydra was gazing back.

The car accident was on Long Island, a year later. Jane remembered the dark leather of the backseat. Big enough for three or four other assassins, she hunkered down behind the seats. When the couple got into the car, Howard started the vehicle. The night was heavy and hot for mid-March, humid, buzzing with mosquitoes and lightening bugs. Five days after her birthday.

Birthday. Birthday?

 

_“Hey, Janie. Uh. For your birthday. Here.”_

_“Stevie…that….this….” Satin cap with the beautiful hand-made lace and ribbon that had once graced the specialty shop window of Hammond’s._

_“I used the money from the book shop.”_

_“Steve! That was for your oil paints!”_

_“Well, I know—but I saw you eyein it. Have to be stupid not to see you lookin at it.”_

_“Steve…”_

_He smiled._

_“You stupid jerk.” She hugged him, grabbing him to her._

 

She whipped into the rearview mirror, garret wire flashed over the seat, hugging Howard Stark back to her. Felt the flesh swell around the wire. Maria punched the glove box, pulled out a revolver. Howard jerked the steering wheel, ploughed them into a ditch. The cords were sticking out half an inch in his neck. And then burst, blood and tissue erupting from the seams of the wire. Maria managed to keep hold of the gun but Jane was already climbing over the seat. The long seam of silver and leather slashing into her throat. Her amber-brown gaze focused on her, the light in her eyes already fading. “Barnes…”

The word meant nothing. Unusual as far as last words went, but the Winter Soldier had heard others. In their last dying moments, people said strange things. She ripped out the switchblade. In a twinkling, she was out of the smoking vehicle. Cut the gas line, take lighter, ignite.

Done.

 

“Flex your fingers. Hey—hey, wake up, Ms Winter.”

Jane looked up at him. Still felt odd to make pointed eye-contact.

“Flex your fingers.”

She flexed her metal fingers silently.

“Anything hurt?”

She shook her head.

“You know—I can put you under—replace this whole module with something lighter. Better metal too. You got all this constant redness—your body is constantly fighting the metal. Soviet Sardines never thought to fix that?”

She looked down and then back up at him. He really did look like his father. Just not the swelling throat and bulging eyes, beads of blood becoming a flood—

“We can fix that. Hey—what’s the matter? Got something in my beard?” Tony stroked his goatee. “You’re not about to do an encore performance are you? Cause, seriously, I get sick of bein tossed around. And I think Clint wanted to put Skittles inside the reactor. Geez, how did a bunch of half-rate scientists manage this?” He turned away, picking up another tool. “I’d be impressed if I weren’t so insulted. I think you’ll see that I’m a lot better. So no more tossing.” He opened up the panels on her lower arm. “Course…they screwed it right into your sternum. How the hell did you get into the Smithsonian like this? Wait, don’t tell me—some super soldier bullshit, right?” He huffed and took a swig of coffee. “You remember coffee? Wanna try some? Why are you staring at me with that dead gaze? You stare at everyone like that? Who am I kidding—you probably do. Hey, Jarvis, where’s Steve?”

“Captain Rogers is currently on floor seventeen, sir, with Mister Banner.”

“What are they doing up there? Painting?”

“Sparing, sir, with Mister Wilson.”

Tony shrugged. “Guess that’s better than anything else. Where’s Thunderdome?”

“Thor of Asgard is in laboratory seven, sir. He has asked me repeated questions about Miss Jane Foster’s research. I believe he is attempting to understand her work.”

“Tch, good luck with that. Thor wouldn’t understand anything that he can’t hit someone with.” He looked back at Jane Barnes. “Ugh, what is it with you? Did you always have that creepy stare?”

Jane stayed silent, letting Tony approach and tweak something inside her arm that made the plating ripple.

“You know they’re redoing the Smithsonian exhibit about you now that everyone knows you’re alive.”

Jane looked down, then back up at Tony.

“Oh, you’ve got all kinds of crazy circuitry in here. I think this used to be part of a cell phone.” He pulled out part of a chip. “Can you feel that?” he asked, belatedly.

Jane nodded.

“Hurts?”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then, “No. Just registers.”

“That’s because it’s a tracking unit. You pulled out the other one yourself—I saw, in your upper arm. Though it was damaged in your fight on the carrier, right? This one probably was too. No way to know now. If you did disappear, Cap will hunt you down like a Russian chasing a bottle of vodka on a string. Sorry, was that offensive? You ain’t still loving borsch with Natasha, right? Not that she cares for them either anymore.”

“Your father was an alcoholic. An addictive personality-type with self-destructive leanings.”

Tony glanced at her. “Well, runs in the family, I guess.”

“Howard Stark sent you to boarding schools to protect you from Hydra.”

“And I was in his way all the time. That’s what dads do, right? Heard your dad was a drunk too. Oh, you don’t remember that, do you?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. It’s for the best—from one manic personality to another.”

“I killed them. Howard and Maria Stark. I killed them on the fifteenth of March, 1991.”

Tony hesitated a long moment, the amusement left his face and he put his wrench down. “Yeah. I know.”

She kept looking at him.

“Seemed obvious once Rogers reported about Zola in the old Hydra base in New Jersey. If there were going to send someone to kill my old man—why not their assassin? Of course, didn’t know it was you, at the time. Haha, that was a little weird. What was he like before the alcoholism? No wait, don’t tell me. I’m pretty sure I can guess.” He turned around to expand his blueprints again.

“So why help with the arm?”

Tony did not turn back to her. He shrugged, walking in and around one of the digital readouts about her arm. “I believe in second chances.”

“They died quickly,” she said solemnly.

“Well, I’m sure they’d thank you for that.” He smiled and went back to her arm.

 

 

 

 

Steve opened up the door. Bruce followed behind him, with Sam. “Has she destroyed anything else?” Bruce asked.

“No—she’s been quiet. I think the memory flashes…they’re hitting her pretty hard. She doesn’t sleep much, at least not yet. And when she does…seems to have constant nightmares. Sometimes she talks and it’s like…like I’m….not there. Or like I’m still a ‘mission’. She rattles off memorized details from Hydra files. I think she knows more about my father than I do. But then other times…she’ll have these moments of weird clarity—almost like having her back to normal.”

“But she’s not…” Sam said slowly, carefully.

“I know…”

“Yeah. Just—she’s never going to be that person again.”

“But she’s not the Winter Soldier either.”

“I know, man,” said Sam, going into the kitchen. He pulled down glasses. “Just—important for you to remember too.”

“I think she’ll recover. Not completely….especially not when she remembers the things she’s done,” Bruce said quietly. He looked off to the window. His eyes wandered.

“That wasn’t her though. She’s not the Winter Soldier. Not—it wasn’t her choice. She’s not evil. She—“

“That’s like saying I’m not the Hulk. I turn into a rage monster and destroy buildings, cars, people—I didn’t have control for a long time. Doesn‘t mean I didn’t do it. It doesn’t mean I _wanted_ to do it---sure. But I still did it. She’ll have to come to terms with that, Steve.”

“How? How can she….come to terms with something like that…”

“Even SHIELD thought of me as a thing. A monster.” Bruce shrugged. “Even Coulson called the other guy a ‘thing’. She’s been a _thing_ for over seventy years. I wasn’t used as a weapon like she was—not that no one tried, cause they sure did try--but I understand the sentiment. Everyone was afraid of me.”

“Now you’ve got Tony,” Sam grinned.

Bruce chuckled. “Lucky me.” He didn’t reach out to clap Steve on the shoulder. That wasn’t really Bruce’s style—but his smile touched the corners of his warm, brown eyes. “And she has you, Steve.”

“Hey, Cap—there a reason you got dead birds in your freezer?”

Steve did a double-take. “Wh-huh?”

Sam let the freezer door swing open. “You got, like, five birds in here.”

“What, like chicken?”

“No, I mean like…a pigeon, a Robin, a Baltimore Oriole, hummingbird and a crow.”

Steve went around the counter to peer in and sure enough—there were five birds in five plastic bags. “Oh. Huh.” He shrugged. “Well, that’s new. Doesn’t really seem like Tony’s style. Does Barton collect dead birds?”

“There are ink pens in here too.” Sam leaned in. “Shit, what the hell. Paperclips. Bits of string. Were you planning on resurrecting them?”

“I didn’t put dead birds in the freezer. They still have all their feathers.”

“Jarvis—do you know who put the birds in here?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, sir. Miss Barnes put them in there.”

“Why?”

“I do not know, sir. My programming limits me from making conjectures on behalf of certain friends of Mister Stark. I have not yet been updated with the parameters for Miss Barnes.”

“Where is she—I suppose I should ask if she, uh….needs them. For something.”

Bruce shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe you should wait—I mean, they’re different species of birds—probably dead before she put them in the freezer. Probably picked up from the street—or where they hit the windows. And then she put them in the freezer—“

“What, to preserve them?” Sam asked.

Bruce frowned. “Maybe. Or…well, she was in freezing herself for a long time. Maybe she’s collecting…other solitary things.”

“That’s creepy,” Sam said.

“Well, the last seventy years have been pretty creepy for her, I imagine.”

“She is starting to remember. Bits and pieces. Escape attempts.” Steve looked down, away. “They didn’t even have the stasis process right for a few years. She was just awake—for everything. But she, uh, also remembers other things. Small details, some things about Agent Carter…”

“Well, a few strange habits or gestures will be welcome compared to what _could_ be going through her head. Like Tony, Clint, Natasha—best to keep them busy.” Bruce poured them all water from the tap.

“And maybe keep an eye on the deep freezer in Tony’s laboratory. You might find her sleeping in there some time,” Sam said, shutting the freezer.

Steve shook his head. His smile and soft laugh were sad.

“Jarvis—let us know if that happens, okay?” Sam said, unable to break the habit of looking at the ceiling when he spoke at Jarvis.

“Of course, Mister Wilson.”

“She’s not gonna get into a freezer, Sam.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Really? You been hanging around with her the last seventy years?”

“Sam.”

“I think I’d have found _you_ sleeping in a deep freezer if you had one big enough in that rank apartment of yours--your metabolism keeps you like a damn furnace. I can feel you from here.”

Steve threw his hands up. “I’m not gonna sleep in a freezer!”

“Hey, Jarvis—be a bro and tell us if that happens too.”

“Of course, sir. Should I make notations for anyone else?”

Bruce couldn’t seem to help but smile. “I suppose we should be concerned if _anyone_ starts sleeping in a deep freezer.”

“Tell Pepper,” Sam suggested.

“What about Thor?” Steve asked.

“He flies through space or something. He’d be all right, I think. I guess. Er. Right?” Sam looked at Bruce.

“And Loki is…made of ice or can create ice or was born from ice people or something or—?” Steve looked at Bruce too.

“Are we counting him as an Avenger now?” Bruce asked

“I dunno—“ Steve shrugged at Sam. “Loki is…uh…um. Off?”

“Crazy,” provided Bruce.

“Shades of grey.”

“And crazy.”

“He’s really….determined. An anti-hero, I guess.”

“And crazy. And a diva.” Bruce sipped his water.

“I thought you were the nice one?” Sam asked, grinning.

Bruce looked up at him. His tired smile was slow and self-depreciating. “I’m not the nice one.”

 

 

 

Tony didn’t sing or hum while he worked. But he did seem to work to an internal rhythm. He moved unconsciously with his stereo. Every tap of a tool, the click of his keyboard—it all followed the world in 4/4 time.

“I don’t want any shots.”

“No shots?” Tony asked. “Sounds stupid. You know there will be pain.”

“I don’t care.”

“Pain better than another naptime?”

Jane glared at him.

“All right, you got it.” Tony strapped her right arm and both legs down. Then he cuffed her wrist to the chair. “Ready? This’ll be fun. Hey, you ever seen Terminator—the second one is really the better….er, well, actually. How about something more wholesome? I could put on the Goonies.” And then Tony grabbed her metal arm and dislodged it from the shoulder module.

Instantly, she was racked with pain. Like her shoulder was splitting, her whole body was splitting in half. She wrenched her teeth into the biteguard, grunting, groaning into it like she had in the chair—that damn chair.

Tony ignored her struggling and sat by the stump of her shoulder. It was seeping pus. “This must be a constant fight for your body—always producing to fight the infection. You need something in titanium. How about a little hot rod red, eh? Can even do a gold star?”

Her eyes rolled to his, spine arching and she growled at him.

“No, huh? All right, all right. No point in giving you a boring prosthetic though. If you ever wanna land that concert pianist gig, guess you need something better than this hunk of Soviet Hydra scrap metal. Like a Russian iPhone or something.” He shoved the arm away and then pulled out a syringe.

“No!” She grunted, spitting out the biteguard. “No, shots!”

“This is for me,” Tony told her, stabbing the needle into the cup of his elbow. He slid it out. “Looking at you is making me anxious. There. Good times, yeah?” He put it down and selected another.

And then he jabbed the needle into her neck. “ _This_ one is for you.”

“No…no…don’t….don’t…argh—!” She roared, pulling at the straps, which cracked and started to split—and then her eyes slid closed.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“The hell was that about? What are you doing to her?” Steve slammed the door open.

“You stay over there, Cap,” He lifted the metal arm and waved the hand at Steve. “She needs a new arm. Module needs new attachments. She didn’t want a sedative. She would have torn my reactor out again.”

“Next time just call me! I can keep her calm. You trick her like that again and I’ll rip your stupid reactor out myself.” He went to sit at her side. “We can’t keep taking choices away from her. She hasn’t had any for so long….”

Tony had his crossed his arms. “All right, all right. You’re the super soldier science experiment aficionado.”

“Yeah, well, there’s more to me than lab work.”

“Yeah right.” Tony laughed and pulled a cart to himself. “She’s unconscious now. No point in you sticking around.”

“Fuck you, Tony.”

Bruce uncrossed his arms at the door, exchanging looks with Sam. “I’ll help,” he said, walking forward. He went to Steve’s side. The big man looked up at Bruce. That warm, tired smile touched his warm, tired brown eyes. “I’ll help. Won’t happen again. But, Steve—if we’re gonna work on the module, we do need sterile space. Infection would kill her.”

Steve hesitated, looking at Janie and then back at Bruce. He swallowed hard.

“It’ll be all right. I’ll have Jarvis contact you if she wakes up.”

Steve hesitated—and then stood. “Counting on you,” he said quietly and went to Sam.

“C’mon, let’s go practice that ultimate fighting stuff. We’ll get you a jazzy costume, a stage name—well, I guess you already have those things.” Sam grinned, clapping Steve on the shoulder and leading him out. “Make up a different one—y’know, like, in comic books whenever the hero wants to get some exercise but doesn’t want anyone to know its him, yeah? Captain Puerto Rico or, uh, Blind Bandit, or something.”

Bruce rolled up his sleeves and caught Tony looking at him. “What?”

“You are one sneaky son of a bitch.”

“What! I didn’t lie to him.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised. "You used your mild-mannered alter ego to gain his trust."

“I didn’t lie to Captain America! How could I lie to Captain America?”

Tony burst into giggles. “It’s not hard. He's too good to see a trick. I'm not mad--this is great. I'm gonna use you for everything.” He offered Bruce some blueberries.

“Thank you for your positive reinforcement. How long have you had the new arm and module ready?”

“A month.” Tony grinned.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes. “I knew the ones who noticed would be the ones who mattered.”

Bruce felt that strange keen—of all the Avengers, Tony had been the one to accept him absolutely. He urged Bruce to embrace his ‘gift’. Sure Steve accepted him—but some part of Bruce could see the guilt in Steve, knowing Bruce had tried to emulate his super serum and paid for it. Steve was also wary of everything that moved—and would always put the safety of the others above his personal relationships. Except the Winter Soldier—that seemed to be his blind spot. Natasha and Clint liked him well enough—but he knew their fear. That their survival hinged on his self-control and that no one seemed to really trust him to have it.

Thor seemed to have a lot of respect for him. But it was a strong warrior to another. And Thor had always held a soft spot for the brutality of his beatdown when he fought Loki. Bruce had never told him, but he did like the irony of it.

Humans are so petty and tiny, indeed.

Puny Gods are puny.

Bruce never claimed to have a wholesome sense of humor.

His warm brown eyes smiled at Tony and he shook his head. “You should get Jane Foster up here some time. She’d love it. Now—let’s see this arm and the module.”

“Actually—funny you should say that. She’s on her way upstairs. But I didn’t tell Thor—cause he’ll get all possessive and then he’ll wanna sit in and watch, cause seriously—for a jarhead like Thor—he’s got a real kink for nerds.”

Bruce snorted into the clear panel on which he was examining the new blueprints.

“Jarvis—open the door for Miss Foster, if you could.”

Pepper was escorting Jane Foster, who kept looking at all the technology, all the pretty chrome and metal. Pepper was smothering a laugh when she gestured inside the lab. “Tony, Bruce—Jane Foster.”

“Look how impressed she looks, Pepper. Why don’t you ever look at my stuff like that?”

“She’s like a kid in a candy store, Tony. Or a…Radio Shack or something. And…oh, where’s the other one? Miss Lewis?”

“Sorry—you know, I’ve never seen the Iron Man suits up close. They’re pretty cool—oh, uh, sorry, Ms…Potts.” Darcy came hurrying into the lab.

“What’s she doing here? This is not a spectator zone.”

Jane lifted her nose. “Darcy is my assistant.”

“Yeah. I’m her assistant.”

“Aren’t you _political_ science?” Tony asked her.

“Poli-sci, History’s evil twin. There must be a reason,” Bruce said. He gestured them forward. “Come on, I’m sure…Miss...Lewis—?“

“Just Darcy’s fine, Doctor…Banner?”

Bruce suddenly looked a little shy—as if it seemed weird that anyone should know who he was at all. “Uh, yes. Just Bruce…is…fine.”

“You’re the Hulk.” A grin lit up Darcy’s face. “That’s so badass. You bitchslapped Loki! Into the ground! Woo! One for our side!” She held up a hand to high-five him.

Bruce blinked and then awkwardly raised a palm to return it.

Tony’s eyebrows went up, eyeing Jane as she came forward. “All right…so your friend is okay. I guess we’ll put up with her.”

“Darcy—“

“Yeah!” Darcy smiled at Bruce and then went to Jane. “What’s up? Can I see the arm?”

“Deep breathes,” Tony said. “Go stand by the wall—you’re…not sterile.”

Darcy snorted. “Your face isn’t sterile.” She walked back to the wall of the lab. “You want me to get the labs running, Jane?”

“Yes, if you could, Darcy.”

Tony huffed. “Well, so—we can handle this—but you’re now freelance since SHIELD has been dissolved. Thought you might like to see before you become a mad scientist for hire.”

“And it might help that I’ve seen Asgardian technology,” Jane told him, going over to the chair where Barnes was strapped down. “Is this the Winter Soldier?”

“Yeah, the other Jane in our lives. She’s a little more violent, less into science, not as pretty. Not good at hooking up with foreigners. Mostly kills people.”

Jane sat beside her prone form. “It’s so weird…I’ve heard about Jane Barnes my whole life. Forcing society to look at women as real contenders for combat and, by extension, science, history, mathematics—everything that women had been denied. And she lived…who knows what the hell Zola did to her.” Jane lifted the sheet from the stub of her shoulder. “Wow. There’s a lot of infection that’s already here. Is this recent?”

“No. It’s ongoing,” Bruce came over, picking up the old arm. “Apparently, inside the arm—it had—like a, government Control Access Card—they have little chips inside that have all information about the subject. We’re lucky that her arm had one—and that it wasn’t destroyed after her fight with the Captain.”

“Have you been able to access it?” Jane asked, grabbing up a small pick and pulling apart a metal joint.

“Not all of it. And the only information we could pull was all archives—when the technology became available, Hydra archived what they could but it was botched work. The new stuff, we can’t get to at all.”

Jane smiled. “Hey, Darcy—wanna hack into a government chip?”

Darcy grinned. “Heck yeah!”

Tony huffed. “Take off your hat and your coat—why are you always cold! Take off all that static cling before you touch that chip!”

Darcy just laughed. Tony grumbled, turning back to the Winter Soldier.

Seeing Tony becoming uncooperative, Bruce got a laptop and brought it to Darcy. “Uh, here—this should get you started, at least.”

“Ah, thanks, Jolly Green Giant!” said Darcy, smiling up at Bruce.

“Uh. Yeah.” He handed her the chip, looking away and then went back to Tony and Jane. “So Asgard,” Bruce said, a little loudly. “The technology there—don’t suppose you got any samples?”

“Well, no. I didn’t. Soul Forges are kind of big,” Jane said. She held onto the module while Tony got a screwdriver. “But, I did get to see a lot. I’ve been building a quantum field generator—“

“See, this is why we need Foster to work here. Not some dump in the middle of nowhere,” Tony said.

“—and I just need something—in Asgard they had special gems that they used for the projection. I’d need high caliber diamonds to even begin to replicate what they could do.”

“You need diamonds? That’s it? We can do that.”

Jane did a double-take. “R-really?”

“Uh, yeah. Remember who you’re talking to. Tony Stark. The hotshot formally and still known as Tony Stark.”

“Is he Tony Stark?” Darcy called from across the room, studying the laptop and grinning. “Omigod, holy shit, I didn’t even realize. I mean, I knew who Doctor Banner was—but _this_ is Tony Stark? You know, he’s shorter than I expected.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, grabbing a blueberry and throwing it at Darcy. She dodged, hiding behind the laptop screen. Bruce covered his mouth with his palm.

“Don’t start laughing, you traitor!” Tony grumbled at him, snatching his blueberries away from Bruce and hording them in his palm. Tony munched them while Jane explored the module unit for the shoulder.

“This new arm…” Jane started slowly. “Is it going to be weaponized?”

“Probably. I mean, given who she hangs out with—might be best.”

Bruce pulled down another screen. “But she has no arc reactor to run it on. But this quantum field sounds promising. Self-regulating clean energy—in theory, she would have unlimited power for the arm. It would have to house its own mini-reactor.”

“I house my own mini-reactor,” Tony said.

“Yeah, but this is different,” Jane mused. “Your chest isn’t your primary weapon.”

“Well, not here. At least—not with present company.”

Bruce rolled his eyes.

Jane didn’t even seem to hear the joke. “Let’s get started. We can replace the module unit. That’s gonna be the hard one anyway.”

“Jarvis, air-lock the lab and you—Lewis—you do have to sit outside for this one.”

She nodded and went to it while Bruce got lab coats and sterile gear for the three of them. They changed clothes and then re-entered the lab, which Jarvis air-locked and sealed.

Tony looked over in time to see Darcy put her phone up against the glass and he faintly heard: _Tin Can Hit Man, try to catch him if you can, secret robo agent with a secret robo plan!_

Bruce smiled a little.

“Darcy,” Jane waved a hand.

Darcy just laughed and turned it off. “Jarvis likes it. Don’t you, Jarvis?”

“Yes, Miss Lewis, I do enjoy the music of my people.”

Darcy burst out laughing. “Of your people—that’s funny.”

“What a freakshow,” Tony shook his head.

“Oh, like you’re any different,” Bruce told him. He went to the cold case and input the password, pulling up a wide, metal tray, smoking from dry ice. “This is the shoulder unit,” he said to Jane, moving aside to let her see it.

Tony backed away to the panels. “Righto, you two get to do the fun part. Pry that thing off.”

Jane looked at Tony curiously, “Why—“

“My lab, my rules. You play in my sandbox, you can do all the gross stuff.” Tony was studying one of the control panels intensely.

Bruce didn’t miss a beat. “Ready, Miss Foster?”

“Jane’s fine,” she said, pulling down her protective glasses. She opened up the Winter Soldier’s flannel shirt and then cut off the tank top underneath. Jane examined the Soldier’s sternum. “Here’s where the screws start,” she told Bruce.

“You have a medical background, right? I mean, before you went into physics?”

“Yes, I started in medical, switched to bio-medical engineering and then went to physics.” She picked up a scalpel.

“Good enough,” Tony called over. “We have enough science between us that we could fight Bill Nye, Neil Degrasse Tyson and Marie Curie and win.”

“Epic Rap Battle!” Darcy called through the glass.

Together, Jane and Bruce slit the skin. “There’s a lot of scar tissue,” Jane murmured to Bruce.

“Yeah…she’d had this reset several times. And…well, all the fighting she’s done…”

The screws were unfastened and Bruce used a small saw to buzz off the shoddy module in sections. The shoulder unit had to be dismantled one layer at a time.

“She was still conscious for this,” Bruce said quietly. He swallowed. “You see the riveting in the bone?”

Jane looked up at him. “This is awful.”

“They missed their marks completely—because she was struggling. And then it looks like they just left them. Whatever happened—guess they didn’t feel like they had time.” Bruce scowled.

Finally, the last piece came out. The two doctors sat down to breath. Tony brought them tea. “Guess I’m tagging in?”

“Yeah, you are,” Bruce told him, trying to shake off the mental image of Hydra's particular brand of torture.

“Hard part’s over, people.” Tony smiled and went to Barnes. He used the bone saw to cut away the infection, rotted tissue and damaged bone.

“She must have been in constant pain,” Bruce mused, taking a gulp of his scalding hot tea.

Jane looked into her cup. “I’ll talk to Thor whenever I see him next…about the tech.“

“See him next? He’s upstairs.”

“What!”

“Eh oh, oops. Was she not supposed to know that?” he called over to Tony.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, too late now! He gets all possessive and she’ll get all distracted.”

“Like you aren’t the same with Pepper.”

“We’re kind of in the middle of something, _Bruce_. Maybe you didn’t notice that we are turning the Winter Soldier into the Summer Soldier.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Really. Really?”

Tony huffed at him and finished cleaning up the stump.

“What about the time frame for healing?” Jane asked.

“Apparently, it works similar to Steve Rogers. Not as fast—but her bone should heal in a few hours,” Bruce told her, finishing up his tea. “We can reinforce the bone structure with titanium. It should fused together pretty neatly. Kind of like that guy--Logan from Canada--goes by Wolverine, I think.”

"You mean the X-Men. What a stupid name."

"Tony. We're the _Avengers_. I mean, seriously."

Jane got up to remove the arm from the cold case.

“Holy shit,” Darcy called through the glass. “It’s a Terminator arm! That’s awesome!”

Bruce smiled a little.

“Geez,” Tony grumbled.

“You know, it’s actually kind of refreshing,” Bruce told him. “We're surrounded by obsessive-compulsive personalities on all sides. Or people who don’t get references: Thor, Loki, Steve, Barnes here—“

“Is Loki an Avenger now?”

Bruce shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t think anyone knows. I mean, he _is_ kinda crazy. I mean, he’s sort of like you—only you have less to prove and he keeps getting himself armies.”

“We’ve got a Hulk!” Darcy called through the glass, turning her laptop aside and letting Jarvis play the footage for her.

“Are you _blushing_?” Tony asked, cackling. “He’s turning purple!”

“Shouldn’t you be cracking that chip!” Bruce said, pointing the arm of his glasses at Darcy. “Loki is like…a…chaotic neutral? Might save your life, might steal your car….might do both?”

“He did do that,” said Jane.

The men looked at her.

“….Loki…” she gazed at the metal arm. “He did a lot of bad things. Horrible things. And yet…he never really seemed…all that into it, I guess. But when he and Thor were trying to save Asgard from the Aether…he protected me when he didn’t have to. It would have been nothing for him to let me die. I'm not sure why he didn't--except that maybe deep down some part of him still cares about Thor.”

Tony peered at her, suddenly remembering—Jane had seen the other side—like he had in New York. The other worlds, just a glimpse for him—but she had _seen_ things. It was easy to forget. She was a lot better at coping than he was--or least she was just as obsessed with her work as he was with his. But where he had Pepper and Jarvis to help keep him grounded in reality...she was mostly alone--except for rare occasions when she got to see Thor.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce told her.

Jane shook her head. “No…I understand. It's hard for anyone to trust Loki. It’s hardest for Thor because he wants to so much.” She turned back to the arm and opened up the lower panel. “This works like your suit, right? It will come off in pieces. But the base arm—is that going to be titanium?”

“Yeah, let’s get started.” Tony drew out the skeleton arm, molded out of beautiful titanium. “Smooth as glass, the joints are titanium and diamond with ceramic. Let’s get the module and the nerve unit on.”

Bruce lifted the piece. Tony had custom-fitted it to Barnes’ whole side. Her bone and tissue was already healing over, the red heat from the constant infection was draining away. The men fit the module’s nerve unit to Barnes’ shoulder. Jane knelt and pushed. Tony had rigged up little claws that latched into the nerve unit and set it into the muscle. Barnes whole body jerked—but she did not awaken.

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. “I was sure she was gonna wake up and rip our throats out.”

“The night is still young,” Tony told her. “Nerve unit cover, aluminum, reinforced titanium, diamond riveting.” He held it in his gloved hand. Jane stood back and Tony went to Barnes’ shoulder. Bruce nodded, holding the Soldier down as a precaution and Tony slid the cover into place. The claws grabbed it. It clicked into place and the cover, dotted with pale, pearly glass, lit up as it connected.

“This goes over the nerve unit cover and preps to accept the arm unit,” Bruce said, lifting up the ceramic and titanium carefully from the cold case. “And it has a chip inside—is that a tracking chip?”

“No, not exactly—it’s a medical chip—but it works automatically. No reprogramming. Every time the arm is injured or she has something done to it—logs it. Javis keeps a back-up.”

Bruce looked at him. “Does Steve know about this?”

“Oh, c’mon, Bruce. Steve would freak out. It’s for the best. I can’t be the only one around here who remembers that his B-F-F Janie Barnes has been brainwashed into a psycho assassin.”

“Steve won’t like this, Tony.”

“She almost killed him. I grew up on stories about Steve Rogers. We all did. She _almost killed him._ You know. Killed him. The _legendary_ Captain America. The _First Avenger_. She almost killed him. And he _would have let her_. Do you see what I’m saying? He's got blinders on when it comes to Barnes. What if she has trigger words? What if we’ve only hit the first layer of mindfucking and the rest of it is on the way and-or is worse.”

“I know. I get it,” Bruce sighed. “I know it makes sense. He’s just not gonna like it.”

Jane sighed softly. “Don’t tell him then. If it’s for everyone’s safety…don’t tell him.” She looked aside, as if ashamed. “At least not yet.”

Bruce nodded, mirroring her feelings on it.

Tony held onto Barnes this time and Bruce put on the module unit. It clicked, sucking in to the nerve unit. Barnes’ heartbeat slammed hard and high. The three scientists froze in place. A soft moan crawled from her lips, pain, agony, despair. Her eyes fluttered and then closed again.

“Okay, arm unit.” Tony said.

Jane lifted the arm. She flipped it and waited while Tony and Bruce turned Barnes onto her side. Jane turned the arm and sunk it in.

The module had an indentation of a disk, about the size of a doughnut. The arm had a disk-shaped protuberance. They fit together like a rotary cuff.

“How do we know if a connection is made?” Jane asked.

“Here,” Tony told her, pointing.

The arm purred and then went silent. The star remained though now was a smokey glass inserted into the metal. It flickered and then lit up, soft and yellow. “It also has wi-fi,” Tony told them.

“System updates?” Bruce asked. “Need a Windows security patch?”

Tony laughed. “It’s for Jarvis.”

“Yeah right. You probably put a GPS in it so that when we’re walking to street you can ask where the nearest Starbucks is.”

Tony did not even fight his smile away. “So?”

Jane chuckled and covered up Barnes’ chest. “It’s already healing. That’s crazy. And it’s so light.” She touched the old module unit and arm. “The old unit must weight eighty pounds.”

“Eighty-two, actually,” Tony said. “But the new one—titanium, ceramic, diamond---it’s about a fourth the weight but better materials. It’ll get heavier if we start putting in a reactor to weaponize the arm but it should be marginal. If you can get ahold of some of that Soul Forge technology—I’d be interested in seeing what we could come up with. I can get the diamonds you need, Jane. We just need something to start from. A sample or schematics or books…something.”

Jane nodded. “I’ll go talk to Thor. Are we done?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Me and Jolly Green can take care of cleaning up.”

“Thank you, Tony and Bruce—for letting me come here and observe.”

“Appreciate the help,” Bruce told her.

She left the air-lock before removing her lab coat and going to change clothes.

Darcy knocked on the glass and Tony gestured for Jarvis to release the seal. “Sorry, guys, fell asleep. You were at it for like, five hours. I’m exhausted just lookin at ya.” She walked right up to Bruce. “Here’s what’s on the chip. Blood type, birth date, bone stuff, medical stuff, science stuff. A lot of it's in Russian. Jarve is working on the translating now.”

“Oh, uh. Thank you.” Bruce glanced at Tony and then back at Darcy. “Uh. Thanks, Miss—er, Darcy.”

“Can I hang out up here while Jane goes to drool over Thor? It gets old. He even took her to Asgard. I was standing _right next to her_. They didn’t even ask me to come.”

“Sure,” Bruce told her, shrugging a little, ignoring the look Tony threw at him. “We just have to clean up and—soak the Soviet arm to get all the residue off, weigh it, take it apart. Keep it for later, just in case.”

“All right,” she said, going to the control panels. “Hey, Jarvis, put on your favorite song!”

“He doesn’t have a favorite song—“ Tony started.

Then Jarvis was playing: _There are no more humans. Finally, robotic beings rule the world._

Darcy burst out laughing.

“I think you better watch out,” Bruce said.

“He’s just—humoring her,” Tony snapped, grumbling. “Right, Jarve.”

There was no answer.

Tony looked at the ceiling. “….r-right?”

The amused lilt did not leave Jarvis’ voice. “Of course, sir.”

Darcy almost felt bad at the flash of anxiety that flickered onto Tony’s face. “Don’t worry, Tony. We’ll get him some more Ramm. Or program him a…lady-friend. Or a guy-friend, whichever. Does he have a preference?”

Tony glared at her. “How long are you gonna be here?”

“Couple weeks probably.”

Tony scowled. “Urgh,” he groused and turned around to stomp out.

They waited for the door to shut. Darcy looked at Bruce.

“He’s my friend, you know.”

“I know. That just makes it better.”

Bruce laughed.


	7. Notation

The rage was dangerous but especially so in Steve. He was very slow to anger but slow to recede as well. Anger came on him like a train, a locomotive, rage stayed. Rage stayed and festered. It grew and grew and grew, swelling like an overripe fruit. Swelling like flesh after a touch of hot metal.

Swelling until his eyes shook, his hackles raised and he couldn’t hear the world around him. Oh, he was aware, the serum wouldn’t allow anything less—but he could only hear his own breathing. The world moved slow like this. Everything shiny and bright, blurring as he moved. Anger in Steve ran hot, boiling.

But rage ran cold.

Of all the tweaks and changes the serum had made, perhaps the most intense—and underrated—was the enlarging of the amygdala in his brain. Steve had always felt strongly about things—but after the serum, the intensity was overwhelming. The amygdala handles emotion and it worked four times as much as the normal man.

Maybe that’s why only Bruce heard Steve’s lungs drop out and his eyes glaze over. Bruce heard the slow, deep intake of breath. The Captain’s eyes seemed to fog over, snow on a windshield, smoke on the water—

Bruce was transforming, lunging forward. And that was the only thing which saved Tony Stark’s life. He grabbed Steve in a bear hug. The Captain sunk his elbow deep into the Hulk’s side. He roared, felt the blinding urge. Reach up, snap the blond man’s neck. Snap it like a toothpick. Snap it like broken bodies, cars, buildings, people, snap them, watch the blood rain down—

Thor appeared from the doorway, holding the grip of his hammer under Steve’s throat. “You know what they needed to do, Captain.”

Steve kept staring, white-eyed, at Tony Stark. Behind Tony, Jane Foster was pressed back against the wall, nervously watching them. Her eyes went to Tony again. Darcy was standing with her, almost in front of her. Darcy had one hand in her satchel, curled tightly around the grip of her Taser. It wouldn’t bring down Captain America-but it might slow him enough to get Thor over here. They didn’t even know what had made Steve so angry—but it hardly mattered now.

Tony, for once, dropped the amused face—because well, he’d seriously crossed the line and Steve might—well, was there really any doubt? If not for Bruce, Steve would have already attacked him and his suit was across the room. As much as Tony made fun of the Shield…he didn’t doubt what it could be made to do to human tendon and bone—the Captain was well-versed at killing with it. This was the kind of hollow-eyed rage that Tony edged away from. He glanced at Foster. His left hand rose, calming, reassuring. Just stay still. No sudden movements.

Steve looked right through Thor. He had gone ice cold. “Let go,” he said, monotone, eyes still blown too wide.

“I cannot do that, my friend. I have respect for you but I cannot allow you to kill Stark.”

“It is…uh, a bad idea,” Tony agreed. He kept circling, keeping the surgery table between them.

Barnes was awake. Janie was breathing hard around her biteguard. She was still strapped in to the chair. She was trembling, shaking in anger, terror. Her eyes were swimming.

“Tony,” Natasha said quietly, entering from another door. “You should leave.”

Tony looked at her—about to argue—

Natasha glared at him. “Go, Tony. Now.”

“Go see Pepper. She’s waiting for you,” Sam told him.

Tony kept an eye on Steve but he walked with a straight-back, as if unbothered by those unsettling eyes.

Natasha shut the door behind him. “Steve…”

Sam was the one who approached. He exchanged looks with Thor and Hulk as he moved in next to them. “Yo, Steve, man—you’re wigging everyone out. What’s wrong, man?”

Steve stared at him, stared at his dark brown eyes. He looked away, met Foster’s eyes. “Get her out of the chair.” He did not raise his voice at all. But something about it still seemed to echo.

Jane Foster swallowed, approaching slowly. She looked down into Jane Barnes’ face. “She’s…she’s awake. Uh, she, uh…”

“Allow us to go and assist,” Thor said, nice and slow. “Your friend is unstable. She may hurt Jane.”

Steve neck twisted, smooth like ceramic—and yet unnatural. “Release her from the chair.”

“Hey, yo, Steve, I got your back, man,” said Sam, touching Thor’s arm to keep him in place. “I’ll get her right out of there. No worries. You just hang back with Thor and Jolly Green Giant.”

Sam moved back to Jane Foster. He looked at Barnes. “Hey Sergeant Barnes. I wanna let you out. Steve is flippin balls over there, thinking Tony hurt you. I can see that you are angry. He’s pissed off too. But I can’t let you up unless you promise not to hurt anyone.”

Janie’s eyes bore into his like screws.

“Okay. Close enough.” He looked at Foster and she told him how to release the metal cuffs.

Sam gestured for her to back away. Darcy yanked Jane Foster back by her t-shirt, pulling the scientist behind her and drawing out the Taser, just in case. Clint got in to position above with a tranquilizer. Sam released the cuffs.

In a flash, the Winter Soldier jumped at Sam and then—just as abruptly—dropped like a rock.

Jane Foster raised her hands. “Please, Miss Barnes—you shouldn’t move—you’re still healing. The new arm—and the plating—you have to let them heal. You…”

Barnes grunted on the floor. Her collarbones shifted with her when she breathed. She managed to stand up.

“New arm,” said Sam, edging between Foster and Barnes. He met Thor’s eyes, who was watching intently—ready to use his hammer on the Soldier if she so much as laid a finger on Foster. “See, nothing bad. Bet it feels nice and light. Why don’t you show it to Steve?”

The Winter Soldier scowled—but then seemed to calm, as if considering—she really did have a new arm. Her deep-sunk eyes flicked over. Her shoulders raised. Silent commands were drumming at the inside of her head: _If the arm is removed by one other than a Hydra operative, kill him._ Janie grunted, fighting the urge, the instinct, the raw _desire_ even, to grab Sam’s face and peel it off.

“Hey, hey,” said Sam. “They’re not hurtin Steve. They’re helpin.”

She bared her teeth at him, walking over to Thor, glaring at him. “Move,” she commanded.

Thor’s eyes narrowed but he glanced over, meeting Foster’s gaze. She nodded and Thor moved aside.

Bruce was already changing back. He kept his big palms on Steve’s shoulders for another moment before stepping aside.

Captain America looked at the Winter Soldier, looked around at all of them. “Stop pointing your fucking weapons at us or I will break every single one of them.”

Janie glared up at him.

“Did he hurt you?” Steve asked her.

She met his lethal gaze. “Yes.”

“He lied to you.”

“Yes.”

Steve’s eyes shuddered. “We can—“

“No,” Janie cut him off. She looked around at the others.

“The arm is good?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, almost in a whisper.

“Do you remember what stroganoff tastes like?”

“No.”

“Let’s fix that.” Steve grabbed her shoulder. Stiffly, Captain Rogers and the Winter Soldier stalked out.

“Holy shit,” Darcy breathed, sinking down into a chair and letting her taser hang towards the floor. “What the hell was that about!”

Thor was already moving across the room, cupping Jane’s cheek. “Are you unhurt, Jane?”

“I’m fine,” she said, “just—shook up a little. Uh—I didn’t know she was like that. She’s….she’s…”

“She’s still a killer,” Bruce said carefully, not looking at any of them as he pulled off the ragged remains of his shirt off the floor. “That’s what they molded her to be. She’s actually better now. She didn’t _actually_ try to hurt any of us.”

“Holy shit, you are one hairy bastard.”

Bruce did a double-take at Sam. “I’m gonna stick you in a freezer.”

“I didn’t say you were like Robin Williams or something—he’s like a fuckin werewolf. But you are really hairy. Did the serum do that?”

“No.” Bruce rolled his eyes. "I'm not that hairy."

“We gotta work on body armor for you,” Natasha said thoughtfully, circling around Bruce to sit on the lab table. “Surely you and Tony can come up with something that will expand when your body does.”

“It’s not a priority right now.” Bruce shrugged again, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. He pulled the buttons closed—and found that only the fourth one down remained. He coupled it.

“Wouldn’t the chest hair get stuck in the leather?”

“Shut up.” Bruce sighed softly, kneeling and grabbing his glasses from the floor.

“So as the Hulk—does the hair get thicker? Ew.”

Clint was sniggering into his gauntlet.

“You guys are assholes,” Darcy huffed, walking up to Bruce. “Here’s your shoe. You don’t need to look like them. They look like shaved little fraternity boys. You look like a man.”

"Fraternity boy!" Clint objected.

Bruce did a double-take under his unruly hair. He stared at her, still half-bowed and leaning against the counter. He straightened. “Uh. Oh. “ He took his shoe. “Uh. Thanks. Uh. For my shoe.”

Natasha’s eyebrows went up.

Bruce held his shoes, turned in an awkward circle and then shook his head. “Well, I’m gonna go change.” His bare feet made almost no sound on the smooth floors. He started upstairs.

“Do brothers oft shave each other here?”

Jane sputtered and then covered her mouth.

Sam shot him a bewildered look. “What?”

“Mortals have strange customs. Do you shave each other?”

Jane turned to face Thor, touching the clasps of his armor and just smiling up at him. “You are such a dork.”

Thor grinned winningly at her—though it was likely that he didn’t know what the word ‘dork’ meant.

Clint looked at Natasha. She grinned. “Oh no, I’ll leave you to explain.” She winked. “Foster, Lewis—wanna come to the firing range? Learn about some guns?”

“Heck yeah!” Darcy said. “C’mon, Jane.” She grabbed Jane’s sleeve and drug her out, leaving Sam and Clint to explain to Thor.

 

Natasha clapped Jane Foster on the back, watching her lift the weapon and aim down at the opposite wall. “Just relax, Foster.”

“I wanna try a shot gun,” said Darcy.

“You and me are gonna talk real quick first.”

Darcy shot a look at the former-assassin. “….uh, huh?”

“I don’t care what anyone does on their time off. I don’t care who’s dating. I don’t care. Except for Steve—because he’s like my little brother. Big brother. Or…something. But seriously, if you’re gonna flirt with Bruce—you might be getting in over your head.”

Jane looked at Darcy curiously. “You like that guy?”

Darcy huffed. “I didn’t say that. I was just being nice.”

“That’s great,” said Natasha. “Wonderful. Be nice. Be his friend.”

“Is this the part where you threaten me?” Darcy asked, stepping back from her.

“No, I don’t have to. Cause if you did, by chance, get involved with him—your new tag along will be Tony. So think long and hard before you decide how deeply you want Tony involved in your life.”

Darcy shrugged. “I don’t really care about Stark.”

“Yeah, but Tony Stark cares about Bruce Banner.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Natasha shrugged. “…in his own way.”

“Hookers and blow?” Darcy asked.

“Well….that wouldn’t be _totally_ unheard of. But not anymore, really.” Natasha loaded a nine millimeter and flicked off the safety, handing it to Lewis. “I’m serious though. When Tony begins to notice, he will look into every single aspect of every single thing you have ever done in your entire life.”

“That seems a little excessive,” Jane said softly, carefully and slowly opening up the magazine to release the clip like Natasha had shown her.

“Excessive is kind of Tony’s life mantra. He does everything in excess. And he’s the only one who has been able to really get through to Doctor Banner.”

“Why?” Jane asked. “He’s seems really kind. And he’s obviously smart.”

“You’ve never seen him as the Hulk—not in person.” Natasha looked down at the firing range. “It’s…not good.”

“Aw, that’s sweet though. Tony lookin out for his science bro.”

“It’ll be less sweet when you find his database on all of us. Anyway, Tony is the one who keeps telling him to embrace his gift. The ‘other guy’. Tony isn’t afraid of him.”

Jane reloaded the Sig. “I see…how long has Doctor Banner been…like he is?”

Darcy looked at Natasha, watching her closely as she finished with the nine millimeter and took it apart.

“He was born in 1969, 18th of December —around the same time as Tony. Gifted scientist—like so many people here,” she nodded at Jane. “He was working with gamma radiation. Got a little too confident in his work. Tested it on himself. He didn’t know that the real scope of the project was to replicate the serum that turned Steve Rogers into Captain America. It didn’t work.”

Darcy looked down at the counter top. Jane closed her eyes and breathed out slowly.

“He at least has some control now.”

“How does he do that? Stay in control?” Jane asked.

Natasha looked at the gun in her grip. “He’s always angry. At least, that’s what he told us.” She smiled a little.

“Sounds like a sad way to live,” Darcy said, checking the sights and popping off half a dozen shots.

“So anyway—it’s not my business. But, Banner is a good guy. Don’t mess with him.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Darcy scowled and put her gun down. “Can I try the Desert Eagle now?”

“So long as you don’t crack yourself in the head.”

“That’s why you’re here, Natasha. You’re teaching us. You know how old it gets, watching everything happen to Jane and not being able to join in. I wanna join in.”

Natasha smiled, looking somewhere between bemused and approving. “All right, Darcy. Let’s work on that. How about you, Foster?”

Jane shrugged. “I don’t mind knowing how to use the guns, just in case but it's not really my, uh, thing--and my work—it’s waiting.”

“Okay. Well, stay for as long as you want and then run off. Tony will probably _give_ you a lab of your own if you stay.” Natasha chuckled, bemused, watching how Jane’s eyes lit up and went far away.

“I think she just had a brain orgasm—a braingasm,” Darcy said.

Jane wandered off not long after, eager to go to Pepper Potts and make the arrangements. Laboratory Seven was soon under new ownership and Jane stood in the center of it.

Her own lab. She looked around to make sure she was alone and made a tiny squeak. She danced in a little circle. “I am going to build _such_ a quantum field generator!” She grabbed her cell phone. “Eric, I need you to come to New York. You won’t believe where I am. No—I’m not with Loki! Geez. I’m in Stark tower. He _gave_ me a lab! I need help getting my equipment up here. They want me to try and recreate what I saw in Asgard. And Thor is here too. He’ll be so glad to see you!”

 

 

“Nice to meet you,” Janie said dully. She had her cheek braced on her flesh hand.

“No one will ever believe that,” Steve said, smiling as he pushed a cup of tea to her.

“I could say _Knife_ to meet you.”

“People would believe that for all the _wrong_ reasons,” Steve laughed.

“I don’t want to go to this,” she said softly.

“I don’t either….but Pepper is saying it’s a good idea. The reopening of the Smithsonian exhibit—with your section all redone…they want us to come.”

“Will we stay long?”

“Nope,” Steve assured her. He sat down on the chair across from her. His shoes scuffed the wooden floor of his room in Stark tower. “I know it’s hard, Janie….I do. But…it’ll be good to learn about this…weird world that we live in. Something besides all the fighting and death.”

Janie looked away.

“No interviews, no cameras, none of that. We go, wave to the paparazzi—let Tony talk to them—we read your new display and then we leave.”

“Do I have to dress up?”

Steve snorted. “I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt. So long as you’re not in your pajamas, I don’t care what you wear.”

“I don’t have pajamas.”

“Okay—so long as it’s not the leather body armor. You slept a lot in that.”

Janie stood, peeling off her sweatshirt to stand in her tank top. She looked at her flesh arm, her metal one, down at her own body. She hadn’t really had any awareness of her body for many years. Looking at it was like discovering something strange and foreign every day.

Steve stood up too, going to her. “How does the arm feel?” he asked, gently reaching up and touching the shoulder.

“Less pain, not so hot. It’s lighter.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t—I mean---“

“They did what they had to. I would never have let them if I’d be conscious. Stark made the right decision.”

Steve studied her stony expression. “Jane…Tony is—“

“I told him I was the one who killed his parents.”

Steve tensed, looking at her. “We don’t know that. Zola just said they had an accident, he didn't say who—“

“I remember it. Fifteen March, 1991—on Long Island. Tony wasn’t even angry. Said he figured it must have been me.”

Steve’s palm slid from her shoulder, cupping the side of her neck. “Jane…it’s not your fault. You weren’t aware—“

“I was. I was just someone else. But I still did those things.”

“But it’s not your fault.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said, shrugging. “There will always be those who hate me for it. I don’t blame them. I don’t like myself much right now either. That’s just reality, Steve.”

Steve drug his other hand down his face. “Things will be different. Things are already different. You have another chance. No one here is going to mess with your head like Hydra did. Think of it as payback for all the times you got me out of trouble. You’ll remember—and you’ll see that me protecting you isn’t nearly enough for all the things you got me out of.”

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes—Doctor Banner asked me to make Sergeant Barnes’ medical information available—Miss Darcy Lewis managed to get it from the chip inside of her old arm module. You may read it at your leisure at the console by the window, Sir. I have taken the liberty of translating it for you.”

“Oh, uh—thanks, Jarvis.” Steve turned to walk to the computer.

Janie gave the ceiling a suspicious look. “That thing is creepy, Steve.”

“You’ll get used to it. I thought it was a ghost, first time I heard Jarvis.” He pulled the console from the wall. “Jarvis, could you do a full 3-D display for us.”

“Of course, Captain.”

In blue and shimmering silver, the panel expanded ten feet tall. Steve looked over, beckoning. Jane approached slower, felt Steve’s palm descend gently on her spine. “This is…me?”

“This is…everything Hydra did, right Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain. The archives that were pulled are here as well, Sir.”

Steve read but did not move to turn any pages. He let Janie do that.

 

 

_Race: Caucasian_

_Sex : Female_

_Country of Origin: United States_

_Ethnic Origin: Italy (Maternal, born in Naples, Italy); Ireland, Romania (Paternal, born in Dublin, Ireland)_

_Projected Date of Birth: 10 March 1917_

_Birthplace: Brooklyn, New York City, New York, USA_

There was a photograph of Jane, young and pretty from her New York days. Bright eyes and dark wavy hair, smiling at the camera. Another from her military file in her Nursing core uniform. A more neutral expression peered out at them but her eyes still twinkled.

 

_Notations: 17 April 1946_

_Attending Lead Physician: Doctor Vladir Misha_

_Supervising: Doctor Armin Zola_

_The 54th Scout Unit found the body approximately four months ago on 16 December 1945. Brought subject back to base. Zola recognized her as the friend of Captain Steve Rogers (DECEASED; suicide, 1945). Assisted in the nursing unit assigned to the 107th American Army battalion. Withstood repeated torture, rape, deprivation by Colonel Lohmer (DECEASED; murdered by prisoners)_

_Recommendations: Continue the serum injections, withstanding such a fall means the previous experiments were at least a partial-success_

 

Steve swallowed the metallic taste in his mouth.

There were scribbles, a small diagram documenting countless injuries. The page turned.

 

_Notations: 05 August 1946_

_Attending Physician: Dr Vladir Misha_

_Subject’s internal reproductive organs have been removed, merely for convenience. Outer vaginal area left intact. Subject seems unresponsive to coerced stimulation. Brain activity flatlines with the sensory experiments. Subject appears to be heavily compartmentalizing her experiences. The uterus was healthy but for scarring existing prior to current experiments, possibly from repeated assaults from Colonel Lohmer and prior to her service in Army Nursing Core._

_With reproductive matters now out of the way, subject will be put into a coma for healing purposes. Will continue experiments in October._

 

Steve’s fingers clenched into her shirt a little and then let go. He glanced at her. She was looking right at him. “You okay?” he asked her.

Something darkened in her eyes. “….are you?”

He looked at the screen. “No,” he admitted and turned the page.

 

_Notations: 31 October 1946_

_Attending Lead Physician: Dr Vladir Misha_

_Subject was taken out of chemical coma. All injury from the fall and surgery have healed. Dr Zola wishes first to reopen the left arm and remove all remaining tissue, bone and nerve matter. Doctors Niada and Boystov will perform the amputation in two days. Subject will be kept restrained, fed via tubing directly into the stomach._

_Sensory experiments restarted today. Subject showed similar brain activity to heightened violence and torture—physical and emotional—and to heightened sexual electronic arousal._

_UPDATE: Will cancel all sexual and emotional sensory testing. Zola has confirmed that Subject will not be used as a typical agent, therefore sexual and emotional ranging are not necessary. Proceed only to physical sensory testing._

_UPDATE 2: 2258 – Subject displayed sudden violence after falling asleep, awoke screaming a name and had to be subdued chemically._

_\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Notations: 06 November 1946_

_Attending Lead Physician: Dr Vladir Misha_

_Subject awoke during amputation surgery, despite injecting her with enough opium extract to kill three or four adults. No injuries. Zola pleased with her progress and has advised to move on schedule._

__\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------__

_Notations: 16 December 1946_

_Attending Lead Physician: Dr Vladir Misha_

_Initial designs were handed over to me today to fit the Subject for the module. The designs are primitive and heavy but we need only ensure that it can fit. Zola is confident that his work with her will take care of the rest._

_Subject has lost no muscle mass since her arrival to Base. Using a combination of shock therapy to refute muscle atrophy and internal feeding tubes, she has maintained muscle weight (56 KG/125 pounds) excluding the loss of her left arm. All reserves of fat are gone. Strength was gauged at an above-average level, typical for someone from a lower class background and military service._

_Height (bottom of heel to crown of skull) : 167.6 CM (66 inches)_

_Waist (natural) : 70 CM (27 inches)_

_Bust: 81.2 CM (32 inches)_

_Hip: 86.2 CM (34 inches)_

_Left Foot (tip of big toe to back of heel): 23.8 CM (9.3 inches)_

_Right Foot (tip of big toe to back of heel): 23.6 CM (9.2 inches)_

_Build: Medium/Average_

_Hip to Shoulder length: Balanced_

  _\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The next page was blank, some scratched out notes. Steve looked down at the floor. Janie did not. She turned the page.

 

_Notations: 05 March 1947_

_Attending Lead Physician: Doctor Vladir Misha_

_Subject’s first escape attempt. Grabbed her IV drip and beat Doctor Gnesin about the head, piercing eye sockets, leaving it implanted in his brain. Clearly an impulsive and sudden decision. Found her within two minutes, running down the northwest corridor. Injuries are marginal—slashes from punching through two windows. Fought security, yelling threats, screamed an unknown name (Robert; probably her younger brother) and also Steve Rogers (Captain America; DECEASED, suicide, 1945)_

_Subdued with opium extract._

_Despite personal reservations, Zola seemed pleased with this development and wants us to document her behaviors more carefully from now on._

__\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------__

_Notations: 30 September 1947_

_Attending Lead Physician: Dr Vladir Misha_

_Personal notes about Subject disappeared in late August. Have not been found. In summary, Subject dreams deep and often--when she’s permitted to sleep. Talks frequently in sleep. All brain activity records have been documented for Zola._

_He wishes to begin Project Sirius in mid-October._

_Project Sirius: As torture, deprivation and isolation have not broken the subject’s will, Zola wishes to move on to chemical means of doing so. Ideally, we would be able to wipe away troublesome memories, thoughts and actions. I am to begin the layer-trigger experiments tomorrow. Zola is sending Doctor Boystov here to set up the chair unit. Shock therapy will now be directed to the brain in specific patterns and specific areas to see which has the best effects._

__\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------__

_Notations: 30 October 1947_

_Attending Lead Physician: Dr Vladir Misha_

_Subject has become docile and quiet—the electric shock therapy seems to be doing its work in keeping her under control. However, memory remains. I will suggest implanting a small rod of steel directly into the Frontal Lobe and using it to more accurately direct shock points in the brain._

_I suspect the subject is now having minor seizures. Returned from lunch, found her foaming at the mouth and eyes open but unresponsive. She looked at me and called me her ‘father’ and then passed out._

_Reprimands will be written up for Doctor Fromkin for leaving the machine on in my absence._

__\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------__

_Notations: 15 November 1947_

_  
Subject had adverse reaction to implanted steel pin. Left eye began to hemorrhage, additional blood loss from ears, nose and mouth. Removed the pin and managed to save her left eye. Will leave the rest of the day for her to heal._

_UPDATE, 1619: Second escape attempt. Pretended to have a violent seizure. When approached by security, grabbed one of their combat knives. Stabbed one in the throat, the other in the chest. Stabbed Doctor Vasyutin and left him on the floor. Subject recaptured in approximately five minutes as she was breaking through the east back door._

_Doctor Vasyutin will be on medical leave for ten weeks while he recovers._

_Send flowers.  
_

  _\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

There were pictures here as well, of Jane—ragged, unkempt. Her hair was scraggly and wild, her eyes burning through the photograph.

 

_Notations: 06 December 1947_

_Attending Lead Physican: Doctor Simone Sannikov_

_Subject was fitted with the first prototype arm. She woke at the end of surgery and crushed Doctor Misha’s windpipe. Zola did not seem perturbed. Told her she would become the ‘new first of Hydra’. Whatever his new method is for Project Sirius, he is apparently quite confident that it will work._

_I have taken over as Lead Physician to the Subject. She has been taken with weakness since the incident, which I assume is due to either infection, exhaustion or both._

__\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------__

_Notation: 21 December 1947_

_Attending Lead Physician: Simone Sannikov_

_Subject has continued problems with the prototype. Weight is the obvious factor. With the module unit, it comes in at a hefty 86 KG/190 pounds. Her collarbone fractured the third day and it snapped last week. This is a good opportunity to test the endurance of her healing ability—but I’m afraid it will degrade the unit. The next one will be screwed into her sternum for extra support. Subject still appears to be weak from the surgery and infection._

_UPDATE: Third escape attempt, Subject has been feigning the weakness of the metal arm. She used it to break out of the chair unit and tore out the air ducts in order to get through the facility. She seems to have remembered her previous attempts at the northwest and east doors and this time she went to the western exit. Two bullets were discharged by security—one in the shoulder and one in her thigh to bring her down but not cause other damage._

_Zola is pleased—as we now have a strength test to send to Moscow._

 

Janie sat down slowly. Steve knelt, “Are you okay?”

She licked her upper lip, breaking out in a cold sweat. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Steve got up into the chair next to her and pulled her to his broad chest. He stroked her hair. “It’s all right, Janie Wonder. I gotcha….” He swallowed hard, smothering the urge to apologize all over again. “I’ve got you, Jane. You’re with me now…”


	8. Janie Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Loki appears!

_Notations : 10 January 1948_

_Attending Lead Physician: Simone Sannikov_

_Project Sirius continues. Doctor Armin Zola has introduced a new method for inducing cooperation in the Subject._

_Stage One: Electronic impulse to the pre-frontal cortex. First thoughts of inducing electronic rewiring in the cerebellum is too risky with the technology we have. While it has some function with emotion that will be detrimental to the Subject—the Cerebellum also processes procedural memory—which will be necessary in creating the Weapon that Zola desires. We need procedural memory—so that the Subject can recall weapons, details, and provided data---but not be hindered by emotion-driven short and long term memory. For this same reason, we cannot adjust the hypothalamus or the pituitary gland—both are directly related to behavioral responses like sexual arousal and pleasure---but also aggression, feeding and drinking. However, we can still work with the cerebral cortex. Playing a key role in memory, attention, perception, thought, language and consciousness—the cerebral cortex will become a vital aspect of my work with the Subject--we can effect the largest area with the least damage to the tissue._

_The frontal lobe will need to be kept intact for higher mental functions and decision-making in combat situations. The parietal and temporal lobes seem to be primarily involved in sensory information. The pre-frontal cortex, however, processes short-term memory and retains long-term memory. We need to keep short-term memory—functions and tasks related to the mission. But the long-term memory must be destroyed. The hippocampus may be too deep inside the brain for us to reach with current technology. But the hippocampus is responsible for spatial memory, which the Subject will require anyway._

_I will be recommending the use of rejected subjects to begin experiments on the brain. Nurse Barnes has proven the obvious choice in selection as the Asset—the other subjects are not needed but can still serve a purpose in experiments that we can’t risk on the Subject._

_I will be bringing three of the failures to my lab tomorrow to begin using the pin-directed shock treatment to pre-frontal cortex areas._

_While this work goes on, Zola has permitted the beginning of experiments on the Cryo-freeze system._

_Stage Two: Cryo-freeze will be used to keep the Subject in stasis during times of un-use. This will keep her from losing skills and will hopefully cut down on the amount of mind wipes we will be forced to conduct. It will also preserve her body in its current state with no concern for atrophy of the muscle. In theory, once the brain is altered, we would be able to put her in Stasis for years at a time, pull her out and she will remain the Subject. This will also allow ease of medical advancements as technology continues to improve._

_Doctor Boystov has already begun Cryo-freeze experiments with a dozen of the failures. With the strength of the arm, the freezing will need to happen almost instantly or risk emotional stress and/or shock that may lead to violence. Male Subject J (16 y/o; Belgian) died instantly from a rapid-freeze that hit his lungs before anything else. We need a combination of chemical that will freeze everything at once, with no regard for body temperature or foreign residue inside the freezing capsules (clothing, sweat, blood, gunpowder)._

_The sooner Boystov figures out the freezing process, the better. We have a limited number of failures._

 

Janie stayed at Steve’s side. She did not fidget or seem nervous but her eyes were constantly moving. People were staring at her. She felt a prickling on the back of her neck.

“Deep breath, Janie Wonder,” Steve said, carefully putting a hand on her back again.

Tony was in front to distract the press. He swaggered down to the half-dozen reporters who had been allowed in. As always, he dazzled them. Love him or hate him, whatever the reporters thought personally—people loved Tony Stark. They couldn’t get enough of that asshole.

Bruce was with them. He walked behind Janie and to the right. He would intercept anyone who tried to approach her and Steve (or maybe stop her from reaching anyone else). Rather like a bodyguard. Janie noticed but said nothing. She peered at Doctor Banner a time or two, seeing something dark in his eyes that was both hollow….and familiar.

Behind Bruce, Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis walked with Thor, chatting and posing for pictures. Sam Wilson was still not used to all the attention—once just a man trying to do his part for the Air Force and then for Captain America—he was now being held up as a role-model. Interviews, briefings, offers for free equipment, someone even wanted him to sign onto a breakfast cereal label.

“Shit, we’re like rock stars,” Sam said quietly.

Clint just smiled at him. “Yeah, sorta. Now that everyone knows we exist—we don’t have to hide if we don’t want to. I mean—most of us still want to—but Pepper is a good PR manager. She knows when it’s good to show our faces.”

“I suppose she must, working with Tony all the time.”

Natasha, who was walking next to Clint, laughed. “Can you imagine his PR disasters?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Foreign Minister. When you were waiting for Tony to give you the weapons’ demonstration, he was banging you daughter. Sorry about that.” Clint laughed.

“How does Pepper do it?” Sam asked, eyes finding the tall lady. She was like a ray of sunshine, smiling and personable with everyone.

“She’s a badass.” Natasha told him. “I keep hoping she’ll come to me for combat training. When that jerkoff from Advanced Idea Mechanics did that experiment on her—she got some crazy abilities. I imagine Tony is afraid she’ll kick his ass if he fucks up too much.”

Clint tilted his head, watching Darcy nod a little at Thor. She looked strangely shy and then turned forward, took a fortifying breath and then hopped a few steps up to walk with Bruce. The doctor seemed surprised by her presence and looked around a little awkwardly before trying out a kind smile on her. He gestured forward, as if thinking she wanted to get by him. But she shook her head and walked beside him instead.

Clint looked over at Natasha.

Natasha nodded a little, shrugging a shoulder.

 

 

_When Janie Barnes first met Steve Rogers in the playgrounds of Brooklyn, little did she know that she was forging a bond that would take her to the battlefields of Europe and beyond._

_Jane Austen “Janie Wonder” Barnes_

_Born in 1917, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army Nursing Core shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training Barnes was shipped out to the Italian front, where she was stationed with the 107th._

_Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture. But her will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, the prison camp was liberated by none other than her childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America._

_Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, the Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theatre. Barnes was considered the first female to be fully integrated into an active combat unit and would set the stage for the future of female roles in the military._

_After her tragic fall in the mountains, it was presumed for many years that Jane Barnes was dead. Mere days later, the country mourned the loss not only of Jane Barnes but Steve Rogers. In a twist of fate, it would seem that when one was lost, the other couldn’t be found. Captain Rogers crashed the plane of Hydra into the sea. Presumed dead as well, the serum would preserve Rogers’ body under the ice. Jane Barnes, however, survived the horrific fall in the wilderness. Unbeknownst to anyone, she was found by a Hydra Scout Unit._

_From there, she endured one horror after another, repeatedly tortured, beaten and experimented on by Armin Zola, lead Hydra scientist. Numerous escape attempts and her incredible strength of will pushed Zola to create the Neuro-Alter System. Delving directly into Barnes’ pre-frontal lobe, he was able to alter large sections of memory._

_Barnes was left a shell with no idea who she was. She was manipulated and used by Hydra to become their assassin._

_The unfortunate Barnes, now turned into the opposite of her best friend, Captain America, would be sent on numerous strike missions and political assassinations. She was integrated with KGB training units and eventually nicknamed the Winter Soldier._

_But the power of her friendship with Steve Rogers would be the key to unraveling years of torment, experimentation and abuse._

_On a fated mission in Washington DC, Barnes came in direct contact with Steve Rogers. Their fight was brutal but when her mask cracked and came off, Rogers recognized her and called her “Janie”._

_It would be this word that would worm passed years of brain-altering experiments and begin the destruction of the Hydra weapon, the Winter Soldier. Despite Hydra’s efforts to force her cooperation and control, when Barnes and Rogers fought next—she couldn’t kill him. When he fell into the Potomac River, she jumped in after him—perhaps subconsciously remembering the skinny, frail boy that she had helped protect in their childhood._

_She saved his life, leaving him on the shore for the Avengers to find and wandered away. Her mind a mess of half-formed and forgotten memories, Jane Barnes eventually found herself here, at the Smithsonian in this very exhibit. One cannot imagine the depth of horror she must have felt, gazing on her own life with no recollection of what had happened._

_Jane Barnes eventually found Steve Rogers again and she was taken into protective custody. No matter one’s politics, it’s important to remember that Barnes was used as a vessel. Unimaginable torture turned her into the Weapon that Hydra desired. The Neuro-Alter unit found underneath Washington DC in a large bank Vault was discovered shortly after and examined by the Avengers’ Tony Stark and Doctor Bruce Banner. It gives undeniable evidence of her complete lack of choice and control. A model of the Neuro-Alter unit was donated to the display._

_We at the Smithsonian can only hope for her recovery._

_Janie Barnes  
1917 - ????_

 

Next to the monolith, a glass case surrounded a model of the Neuro-Alter chair unit. Jane stiffened when she saw it and Steve grabbed her.

Bruce appeared next to her. “It’s a dummy unit. They made it to resemble the chair—but there’s not even any wiring. Just like going to the dentist now.”

“I hate the dentist.”

“That’s okay. At least your dentist isn’t gonna try and wipe your brain. I mean, hopefully,” Tony put in.

“Oh, there’s the museum president,” Steve said, pointing him out to Jane. He still had a hand on her spine, big and warm.

He spoke about the display, about Captain America, before turning his attention to Janie and then seemed to unconsciously gentle. “We do not look at you as a criminal, Ms. Barnes—but a victim of Hydra. If there is ever anything we can do to help you find your past, we would be honored to assist.”

Janie stared at her metal fingers. “They talk like I’m a damn invalid.”

“Well, you kind of are,” Tony said.

Janie punched his arm.

Tony laughed and looked away, face locked in a cringe. His eyebrows raised. “What is that Lewis girl doing?”

“Huh?” Steve asked, looking around Jane to Tony.

Tony crossed his arms, scowling. “She’s political science. What’s she even doing here?”

“I’m a Fine Arts student.”

“You’re Captain America. She’s nobody.”

“She’s Miss Foster’s friend.”

“So what.”

“So she’s not ‘no one’.”

Tony scowled and sat back in his chair. He watched Darcy fidget with her glove as she spoke to Bruce. Bruce seemed a little uncomfortable, but he smiled gently, awkwardly.

Pepper leaned over to Tony. “Let it go, Tony. Don’t worry. He’s still your friend.”

“Tch,” Tony scoffed. “What am I worried about? She’s probably just got daddy issues.”

“Like you?”

“I don’t have daddy issues because I didn’t have a daddy.”

Pepper rolled her eyes.

The rest of the visit was uneventful. Janie refused to be interviewed and turned to try and slip away. Steve stuck to her side like a leech, looking apologetic. But Bruce and Tony were already moving in, talking about the Neuro-Alter chair.

Jane made it all the way to Tony’s garage. She got out of the passenger side of the car. “I’m not an invalid,” she said.

Steve looked at her, putting his hands in his pockets, standing by the front bumper. “I know you’re not, Jane.”

Janie grabbed the car door and ripped it off. She flung it into the wall. “I’m not. I’m not an invalid. I don’t need their help.” She looked behind her, examining the destroyed car door. She looked back at Steve. “I….sorry,” she muttered.

Steve sighed. “Jane—“

“I know,” she cut him off. “I know…” She turned away, heading back upstairs to the floor she shared with Steve. She went into the room designated as hers, shut the door and took off the jeans, the t-shirt. She looked at herself in the mirror. A body, covered in scars, mutilated by the metal arm. A thing.

She looked down at her hands. A thing. A tool. A weapon. She closed her eyes. Her pre-frontal cortex had been ravaged and yet…her brain had still known Steve Rogers.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there when Steve opened the door. He looked down automatically from her half-naked form and then back up to her face. “Janie—uh—sorry. I just…”

She grabbed her t-shirt and pulled it back on, following with the jeans. “Doesn’t matter. What do you want?”

“Janie…”

She scowled, hating that apologetic note in his voice. She glared at him in her mirror. “I’m not a damn invalid.”

“I know that. We all know that. But you can’t deny that you aren’t whole either. There are things missing.”

“Missing. Missing, ha! Like what! Like family!” She lifted her boot and smashed the heel into her bed. The frame cracked, sagging as it hit the wall. “Like friends? Like a history?” The lamp, the whole nighttable, scooped them up with the left arm and shattered them into the wall. “Like knowing who I am and how I got here! And why the last seventy years I’ve been someone’s fucking toy for them to send out and kill children and women and men! I should have _died!_ I should have died when I fell off that train!” Her fist smashed into the mirror. “That would have been better than—“

Steve grabbed her from her from behind, whipping her away from the mirror and pinning her to the wall. “Stop it, Jane—“

“No—no, you think a plaque or an exhibit at a museum is gonna fucking matter! I murdered people! I was Hydra’s butcher! I killed Tony’s parents! This bullshit acceptance routine has gotta stop! It’s garbage!”

“It’s not,” Steve said sternly. He braced against her struggling, managed to capture her hands and pin them to the wall. “They want to try! Better than them trying to kill you!”

“At least that I would understand!” She shot back, something in her eyes fracturing apart. “I would understand if they wanted to kill me! I would accept that! But this nice routine—I hate it! They act like I’ll shatter at any time!”

“You could. We don’t know what all Zola had done to you. There could be control words, triggers, so much that we don’t know. That’s why this is the safest place for you. Even Bruce used to be hunted and hounded by military before Tasha found him in Calcutta. But here, with us—with Tony—he’s safe. He doesn’t have to worry about being chased anymore. And you don’t either. No one is going to try and kill you.”

“I wish they would,” she growled. “I want them to. I want them to try.”

“That’s the Winter Soldier talking. Not Janie Barnes.”

“We’re the same.”

“No. You’re neither—you’re not completely one or the other—you’re both. And I know you can adapt.”

“How!” She snapped.

“I did,” he said simply. “And if I can do it, I know you can.”

Her eyes filled, body swelling with anger. She grabbed into his hand, the one pinning her wrists, and popped up, kicking him in the gut. He staggered back, grabbed her arm when she came at him. She backhanded him, followed with a left-hook. Steve grabbed her around the waist, flipped her over and slammed her into the ground. He was kneeling to her in a flash to hold her down again.

“Janie!” Steve shook her. “Jane, I’m not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. That’s what you’re used to now—people hurting you and you hurting others. Not anymore.” He searched her face.

She stared up at him.

_Steve…_

_Steve, are you okay!?_

_Steve! Your asthma!_

_Dammit, Steve! You jerk!_

_Steve! Am I hallucinating?_

_Weren’t you smaller?_

_Can’t you see how head over heels he is for you, Carter?_

_No one paid attention to him, except for me. You’re his best girl, you stupid bint._

 

Her face curled into an ugly scowl, growling. Then she kissed him.

Steve jerked a little, not expecting it and then stilled. “Janie.”

She planted her foot in his stomach and flipped him off her. In a flash, she was straddling him. “I can hear everything,” she told him. She grabbed him by his blond hair, jerking his head to the side. She bit his neck and then kissed him again.

Steve went still—not sure what to do. His hands went to settle automatically on her hips. “Jane,” he said, gently. “Jane, look at me…”

Jane shuddered, pulling up to meet his eyes.

“Peggy told me after we visited her. What you meant by ‘between us’. The conversation you two had back then—about me. You remembered it, didn’t you?”

Janie looked away. “Yes.”

“When they unfroze me, I still didn’t quite believe that I’d been asleep for seventy years. It didn’t seem real. Not until I saw Peggy for the first time. She’s the only one that’s still alive. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Everything just drained out of me. They left us to speak alone. And I just sunk down into the chair in her room. I couldn’t move for probably ten minutes. For me, it was just days ago that I went into the ice. For me…it was still so close…and yet all so tragically far away. She didn’t say anything the whole time I sat in there with her. That was the moment that this world became real to me. That I realized I really would have to adapt and move on. The forties were over, the war was over, their lives were over….and for some reason, I was given a second chance to go again in another place, another time. The irony was never lost on me—that first day when I woke up and ran out of the SHIELD building and into Times Square. Ha, time squared. Here we go again, you know?”

Janie kept looking down at him.

Steve lifted a hand, gently combed it through her hair. “You were right. I would have married her if I’d had the chance. But I didn’t. All that is over now. Although, I still have a hard time letting go of certain things. And while I understand that this a response to all the horrible programming you’ve been through—I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t think either of us are ready. But especially not you. You’re not ready. Not for this. You think you want this…but I’m not so sure you do. You want your mind to be quiet. To stop screaming at you. And the intensity of violence or sex—well, the intensity of both is so similar that you would be happy to do either. But falling into that trap is dangerous and unhealthy. It almost destroyed Tony completely. I want what’s best for you. You’re my friend, Janie.”

She got off of him, standing. She watched him get up.

He stood in front of her. “Janie…I…”

“I’ll go work on my arm,” she said softly. He was right, after all. Sure, she could feel violence and sexual desire—but could she feel _love_ after all this time and after everything they’d done to her brain? Could either of them feel something like that? The hollow emptiness was like a vast, dark pit. Sex though, still a big deal to Steve. It was about trust, vulnerability. That made sense—ha, they hadn’t changed him _that_ much. That was good, really. Steve’s unbending goodness could be frustrating sometimes—but it was a constant in this every changing, fucked-up world.

“I want you to call me—ask Jarvis—send for me if you need help. You know I’ll be there.”

Janie nodded. She pulled on her flannel and her sweatshirt and walked out the door.

Steve stood in her room, watching her go and screwed his eyes shut. He sighed deeply. He’d made the right choice. He had. It was for the best for both of them. Emotions made things really messy and she wasn’t ready for that. Hell, he wasn’t sure _he_ was ready for that either.

 

Jarvis led her to the lab that Tony, Bruce and Other Jane had used to install her new arm. She walked into the lab, shutting the doors. It was automatic to look at the chair, first. The stool was gone, and the metal chair had been repaired or replaced. She walked over to it, skimming her fingers along the cold titanium. Next to it, on the work counter, there was a little glowing green circle. Like a little doughnut. She leaned over it, looking at the glass tubing, wires—it resembled Tony’s chest piece—the reactor she’d torn from him.

Oh, of course. She looked down at her arm. They were going to allow her to weaponize her arm. But not just with superior strength and durability—but really weaponize it. Like Tony’s gauntlets. Janie reached under her shirt to disengage the arm at the shoulder. She grunted as it disconnected and grabbed it with her right hand. She laid it on the counter. “Jarvis,” she said aloud. “Show me how to install this.”

Jarvis was quiet for a moment and then said, “Mister Stark has given permission. I shall display the blueprints and act as a guide.”

Three hours later, Janie was blessedly distracted, closing up her arm. One of the robots (called Dum-ee?) held the arm for her so she could pull her shirts out of the way. She grabbed onto the counter as the bot helpfully pushed it into the socket to re-engage. It clicked, shocked her to the core. She shuddered, leaning heavily on the work bench. The star changed from glowing a soft, pearly white to faint green. The hand had been replaced entirely with a new unit, the palm also glowing a faint green. “Light means it’s always on stand-by, ready to fire, right, Jarvis?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mister Stark designed it with that in mind. It can also be voice-controlled, as I also run all the diagnostics on the arm.”

“So, Tony…downloaded you into my arm? So if I leave here…you’ll still be there?”

“Yes, ma’am. I am your arm’s primary AI.”

“I guess that’s not so bad. Can you control the lights?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good…don’t really wanna walk around with a damn nightlight on all the time…” She picked up a flathead to test her sensory.

And then, from nowhere, got the strangest feeling. Prickling on the back of her neck, a sudden start in her senses. The smell of moss, slightly electric--like the desert after a storm. “Jarvis,” she said softly. “…go defrag something…or something.”

She rolled her new fingers, straightening up and looking around the lab. The feeling grew. Someone was here with her, watching her. She lifted up a small metal mallet from the workshop table, feeling the grain of steel in her right hand. The lab was empty, the room beyond the glass doors was empty.

But there with her reflection—

_Someone next to her reflection—!_

Loki stepped out of the glass.


	9. Coffee and Doughnuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee, doughnuts, Boilermakers, and God.
> 
> And what DID happen to that computer tech who defied Rumlow? I like that kid. He pulled a pre-serum Steve. Knowing he had no chance but doing the right thing anyway! They should bring him back in Age of Ultron!

Steve had been raised an Irish Catholic. God was a central part of his mother’s life—no matter what befell them. She would always touch her rosary, grip it until the beads creaked and her fingers turned white. Every bout of pneumonia, Scarlett Fever, malaria—he remembered the rosary and its creaking beads and Sarah Rogers strangled God into submission.

“Not today,” she would tell him, brushing his fringe back from his sweating forehead. “I’ll fight God to the last to keep him taking you from me. Not today.”

  
She had a sort of love/hate relationship with God. Unable to understand the things that happened, unwilling to accept the hand dealt to her son but not capable of simply giving up years of indoctrinate religious teachings either. They were all she had.

When Sarah Rogers lay on her death bed, wracked with Tuberculosis and Steve sat beside her in a cruel reverse, she took off her rosary and handed it to him. “I haven’t the strength to hold it, Stevie…”

He’d nodded—that good boy. He nodded and took it, squeezing it as tight as he could. “Not today, Mom. Not today…”

He watched her die. He looked at the rosary in his fingers. He hadn’t even heard them creak. His grip was almost as weak as hers had been. And even though it made no sense, it still felt like maybe if he’d gripped stronger, he might have strangled God into submission. To keep Him from taking her away.

He sat there with her body for a long time—barely heard the door open.

“Steve…?”

His eyes drifted, floated up to Janie. “Jane,” he murmured.

“Oh, Steve…..” Janie went to him in a flash. “Steve—let me help you. C’mon, buddy.”

“No…she…” Steve looked down. “…she didn’t want to die alone…don’t want her to be alone.”

“I know, pal. I know. Okay—so, I’ll go call the police, all right?” She reappeared about ten minutes later.

Steve hadn’t moved. He felt numb.

Janie stayed that night with him. Got him dinner and made him come to the kitchen for tea while the coroner and coppers took care of the body. Steve could feel Janie’s eyes on him, felt her constant vigil, watching him for every flex of facial expression.

At the burial, Jane showed up in her singular good dress. It was a dark green with pale lace and she wore her black coat over it. She looked lovely in it, like she did in everything. But Steve always appreciated how unaware of it she seemed—or how unaware she acted around him, anyway. It was stark, with her hair all done up, even had make-up on, which she only wore on special occasions and she’d dabbed vanilla extract behind her ears.

Steve stepped forward as they lowered the casket. As the sole remaining family member, he stood alone like a little tree in the desert. Unbending to the wind, leaves curling in the sun, but sinking in the sand. When he looked back around, Janie was talking to her mother, brothers and sister—and Steve took that opportunity to vanish. He walked the long way home, slow and slurred.

It was no surprise though, Janie always turned up like a bad penny. She was waiting for him at his flat. “Tried to find you afterwards…my mother wanted to give you a ride.”

“Needed some time by myself…”

She nodded, following him silently up the stairs. “Steve…we can help you. I can help you.”

“No, I—“ he searched his pockets. “I’ll be all right. Just wasn’t expecting it, is all. She’s next to Dad now. She’s better now. She—“

“Steve.” He turned around, watching Janie pick up his spare key from under a stone. She presented it to him.

“I’ll be all right. I can get by on my own, Janie.”

“Thing is, Stevie Wonder—you don’t have to.” She tried a smile, it was faded, sad. “End of the line, yeah?”

Steve looked down and then back up at her. She leaned in and hugged him.

“You can even tell them that I nagged you into it or something.”

Steve started, breaking into a short laugh against her shoulder.

 

After that, even after he and Janie moved in together, Steve hung his mother’s rosary on the wall but never touched it again. Did he believe in God because he’d been brought up to? Because he was supposed to? Or was there something more? Were they praying to nothing?

Janie didn’t know and honestly, she seemed to not worry about it. But it bothered Steve like a splinter in a finger. He’d forget about the wondering until he brushed it again and then the same thoughts marched through his agile mind.

But he threw all that to the wind.

The night he met Erskine, it was warm. Janie looked wonderful in her nursing uniform. She was leaving for London the next morning. Even got them a double-date—a handsome townie and his sister. She worked at the library, Janie clearly thought that was a good choice.

But, well, Steve barely noticed girls anymore and she was polite to him, but little else.

“Behind an alley getting beat up,” Janie said to him. “Is it—oh, any day ending in ‘Y’ already?” She crossed her arms.

The big lad who was hitting him turned to look at her. “Who are you, doll? His sister?”

“Boy, if I was, I’d be a much politer raised young lady. Now, lay off him or I’ll make you wish I _was_ his sister.”

The man rolled his eyes. He turned back to Steve. Steve hadn’t missed a beat. He grabbed up a garbage can lid to defend himself—and then a rock collided with Big’s head. The man turned around and another fist-size stone bashed into his forehead. He staggered, giving Janie plenty of time to saunter up and give him a firm right-hook to his face.

Steve huffed a little. “I had him, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Just waiting for the next course. I need a bell for you. I mean besides the sound of flesh getting punched. C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“The future, Stevie Wonder. Stark’s Expo is at the docks.”

Steve watched politely. Townie had an arm on Janie’s shoulders. Townie’s sister had found a friend in the crowd and they were gossiping together. Janie shot him a sidelong look. “What do you think, Steve? Like those showgirls? Stark’s got a good look to him.”

Steve rolled his eyes, chuckling.

And then fate, it seemed, was calling. Or maybe Steve was just going to see the Future after all---but not at the Expo. He wandered to the recruitment center near the docks, leaving Janie and Townie and Townie’s sister.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already scampering back to one of these.”

Steve turned around. “Janie—this—I can’t stay behind. I can’t.”

“Steve. They’re not going to take you. You have asthma for Christ’s sake! You have heart palpitations! Steve, you’ve tried so many damn times! They—“

“Maybe this will be the time,” he said. This booth didn’t feel particularly different from the others. It felt entirely ordinary. And yet, something in him—just once more. “Just one more time. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

“Lucky? Lucky!” she said. “I can’t even…..what are you gonna do when I leave tomorrow. Who’s gonna make sure you don’t do something stupid!”

“Eh,” Steve dismissed. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Janie shook her head, nearly upsetting her cap. “You’re an idiot.” She grabbed him to her. “You don’t use the sense your ma gave you, you little punk. I know you’re gonna go in there whether I want you to or not—because you’re stupidly stubborn and you love to fight losing battles. You’re like a walking underdog. And if some cold chance in hell they did take you, it’ll be no one’s fault but your own when you get killed!”

Steve smiled at her. “Aw, but what if I want to get serenaded in French or German before I die?”

“You goddamn punk.” She couldn’t help but smile.

“Go on. Go with that—whoever he is. Be careful tomorrow. Any of those guys try and have you go below-decks with them—“

“The nurses are being corralled on a separate deck, Steve. I wouldn’t go unless I wanted to.”

“Go on—go have fun. It’s your last night. I’m gonna go in, try one more time.”

Janie huffed at him. “You’re an idiot. But I guess I wouldn’t want you any other way. You dweeb.”

Steve watched her hesitate, something crossing her eyes—and then she turned and walked back to Townie. He put a broad arm around Janie and they walked off together.

Steve looked back to the center.

And headed for his future.

 

Even when he had nothing, he had Janie. And when Janie left with the Nursing Core, he latched onto the same ideas again. Like his father, go and fight in 107th. He had no right to do any less. Though many would have said differently.

And then Erskine came along and changed everything.

At this point, maybe Steve still did believe in God. That there was someone out there looking after them, who loved them and wanted what was best—it was a comforting thought. He was chosen—the obvious choice, even—for the Serum. And it worked. His whole life changed.

The way people looked at him. When he told a lad off for disrespecting a lady or something—they listened. No one wanted to fight him. No one thought they could beat up beat him up. No one even tried. It was rather nice, really. He’d fought so hard for so long, that _not_ fighting was rather strange. But a welcome change.

Now he didn’t have Janie—but now he had this. This new body to learn about, his sudden importance, people taking him seriously. Well, at least—until they made him a sideshow. Thank God Janie never saw those. She’d have never let him live it down.

The brass, the politicians, were still happy to lie to Captain America Steve Rogers as they had been to dismiss Classic Steve Rogers. Yes, of course, perform like a monkey for propaganda and sure, sure, kid—you’ll get your own unit. Just be patient.

He learned a great deal in a very short amount of time. As a scrawny, frail kid—no one had dressed up anything for him. They didn’t see a reason to soften a blow or use false kindness on him. He had nothing, he _was_ nothing. Why lie to some useless burden? But as big, strong super soldier—he was lied to at every turn. Anything to keep his cooperation. To keep him under their control. Sideshow monkey.

Steve was kept isolated from anyone who might become a friend. He was the performer—he wasn’t even a person anymore. He ached for Janie—someone who wouldn’t lie, who he could trust. He turned his focus to their travels. He’d never seen any other parts of the United States before. And now he was bombarded with questions, interviews, traveling in style by train or plane, riding in fancy cars, eating good food and being given money. It was overwhelming.

He retreated back into his shell. His sketchbooks (the nice ones now, with smooth paper) were full of drawings of maps, of people in the crowds, of magnificent ships. He gave his money to homeless folks he saw, or women’s shelters. If he could do something—shouldn’t he do it? It made the politicians annoyed with him but he didn’t care.

It was a blessing and a curse to see Carter again. He figured she’d come up and make the disparaging comments—and at first, that seemed to be her goal. But in that regal, sophisticated British way of hers, she _was_ trying to encourage him. Even if it just made him feel worse—but then she mentioned the 107th—and that changed everything.

This might have been the moment, the cracking at least.

Steve breaking in to a Hydra base alone. Running through the dark corridors, finding himself at Janie’s side. She was so thin, dazed and confused. Experiments had been done, they’d tortured her, beaten her, raped her….he lifted her like a rag doll. The one saving grace of it all was that she knew him the second she saw him. The familiar warmth in her gaze and that soft, dreamy smile that Steve had never registered before, despite being so completely familiar and completely _Jane_ …it would be seventy years before he would reflect on what that look meant.

And then shaking it loose when she really _looked_ at him. _Am I hallucinating?_

The horror these men and women had endured. The Red Skull. The experiments. And at the same time, the Holocaust was happening. But he held onto Jane’s recognition. He held it tight and close. She kept him grounded. He taught her to fight and they were taking the fisticuffs to Hydra.

And then after all this, all that—everything else—losing her on the train. He’d even returned to the same bar they’d been at when they’d created the Howling Commandos. It was just one thing after another. He went into the ice mere days later.

And then instead of dying, he’d woken up in New York City seventy years later. Now he had no family, no Janie, no sense of place, no one to trust.

Desperately clinging then, to religion—the only constant that remained in this time (and even Catholicism was vastly different now, though mostly in good ways).

 _There’s only one god, ma’am and I don’t think he dresses like that._ Geez, had he really said that? To Black Widow? Out loud? No wonder they thought he was such a tool sometimes. 

After Loki had been captured and defeated, he’d gone to a church in his old haunt, the old neighborhood. Now he just felt uncomfortable being there. Life was cruel—did folks truly believe in an existing God? Or did they create one to ease their own minds?

Well, he’d been created too, he supposed. Steve had been a shrimp—turned into Captain America—but more than that—a symbol. An idea. Something for others to believe in (or fear). And he was real (right?).

But the idea of God that he’d been raised with…well, that God certainly didn’t come down and help out. Maybe God _did_ dress like Thor--who was he to say. Or maybe there wasn’t any God at all. Maybe they were all alone in the universe.

He supposed in the end, that it didn’t matter. If God wasn’t going to step in—well, he’d do it. Not _for_ God—but for people. For humanity. For that computer tech who stood up to Rumlow, knowing the bigger, stronger Hydra agent would kill him. But he stood up to Rumlow anyway—because it was the right damn thing to do. (He should go find that kid and shake his hand. He wondered often what became of him.) For that agent, Sharon or whoever she really was—assigned to protect him and she’d lied about herself to protect him—and maybe he should look passed her lying about her identity and maybe be friends with her. She _had_ helped him save Fury, after all. (Not everything was so black and white, Steve. Not cut and dry. There are many shades of grey.)

At the end of the day, Steve supposed, God didn’t really matter in the end. What mattered was—are you gonna do the right thing or not?

And for Steve, it didn’t matter if God existed or not—he knew he would still try to do the right thing. In this chaotic world, what mattered more was…finding Janie after she disappeared from the helicarriers, fighting bad guys who shot at him, fighting bad guys who lied to him, who lied to others, who hurt the innocent, civilians, the helpless. Those things mattered.

They were the only things that should matter.

 “Yeah,” Steve murmured to himself, staring out at the lights of New York City. He let a leg dangle over the roof’s edge, his other knee drawn up to his chin.

Thor came out the door to sit next to him. “Hallo, my friend.”

“Hey.”

“Do you desire to be alone?”

“No, you’re fine.”

Thor sat with him in companionable silence for several minutes and then said, “Something bothers you, my friend. I have sensed it in you for days.”

Steve looked sidelong at Thor and then back down. “Ha, I suppose I can’t hide it very well. It’s been weird since Janie came back.”

“Yes, I imagine it must be. There is a lot of shared history between the two of you.”

Steve nodded. He was quiet for a moment. “Thor—you ever have moments where you aren’t sure you’ve done the right thing. You did what you thought was best. But you can’t help but regret everything. Even if it was right.”

Thor looked out into the city. “I have. I have….leaving Jane and destroying the Bifrost was the correct thing to do but I regretted that it had to be done. Even though—were I to have to choose again, I would made the same choice. For the good of all the realms. And then, Loki...all our years together, I thought I was doing the right thing. I wish I had realized how much I hurt him....my ignorance and pride turned him to madness.”

“Do you guys have Gods—in Asgard? Like we do?”

Thor looked more thoughtful. “I have thought that the idea of ‘gods’ was a strange thing. But I can understand why mortals created it.” He smiled a little. “It is best not to worry about things that you cannot prove or understand. If there is a God, than he is more allseeing than my Father. And if that is the case—then nothing we do makes a difference to one such as that. We all have free will. It is better to live in the moments. Especially you mortals—your lives are so short. Even yours, Captain. You have lived a blink in the lifespan on my father. Mortals—you know what is important to you because you have so little time to cherish it. You know what’s important if you ask yourself--and you are honest with yourself.” Thor clapped him on the shoulder. “Always be honest with yourself, Captain.”

Steve looked at him—feeling a strange pull, like being with the Commandos again. “Thank you, Thor. You are a good friend.”

Thor smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. “Let us go and drink! We will make our ancestors proud!”

Steve chuckled. “You know I can’t get drunk, right?”

“Ha! Quite a claim, my friend! We shall see! Eric introduced me to a mortal concoction called _The Boilermaker_. It is truly a worthy thing.” Thor pulled him up to lead him back downstairs.

 

 

 

Janie stepped back from the counter, from the man who came out of the glass. “Who are you?”

The man bowed his head a little. “You are not one of my brother’s new friends.”

“Hey Jarvis, how do I fire this thing?” She circled around the worktable.

“Ma’am, the arm responds directly to thought and nerve input. But it has not yet been calibrated.”

Loki smiled. “You must be the Winter Soldier. So you don’t know me, do you?”

She studied him. “I’ve killed with less information,” she admitted, circling behind one of the monitors, just in case.

“I do like that attitude in humans. It’s so very honest.” The butt of his glaive touched the lab floor. “I am Loki of Asgard.”

She blinked. She knew that name.

 

_Notations: 02 April 2012_

_Project Lead: Lisa Sebasilla_

_The Asset was brought in for Briefing. The Battle for New York City has changed Hydra’s timetables substantially. Though, of course, this character, Loki of Asgard could not know it—his attack on Earth will give humanity the push that no political assassinations could. This attack effects humanity in their everyday lives. It makes it painfully real. In their fear, the people will turn to SHIELD, to these Avengers—and we will be well-placed to take advantage of it._

_Considerations were made to approach Loki himself—but he seems more embroiled in his own madness, making him unsuitable as a Hydra agent. He goes his own way with no concern or care for anything else. An admirable trait, but not useable in the long run. Too unpredictable. Perhaps when Operation Insight is off the ground, he will be taken care of but for now—the chaos he is causing is to our benefit._

_Loki’s apparently adopted brother, Thor, is the crown prince of Asgard. He has revealed to SHIELD that Loki is damaged and possibly insane and apparently was born in yet another realm called Jodunheim and was later adopted by Odin, supposedly the King of Asgard._

_Unfortunately, upon briefing the Asset on all of this, it seemed to trigger a memory. Agent Rumlow asked her what she thought of the footage._

_Asset: Someone told me about them. In New York._

_Rumlow: We did. Just now._

_Asset: No, not now. A long time ago. (She looked back to the viewscreens)_

_Rumlow: What do you mean?_

_Asset: I don’t know. Steve told me. Viking Gods._

_It just so happened that Captain America and Thor appeared onscreen, fighting together and Rumlow reported recognition in her face. She will have to be wiped again. The human mind certainly is resilient._

 

Janie looked at Loki again. “Loki—Thor is your adoptive brother. I was briefed on the footage of New York City two years ago.”

“Yes.”

“You were the best thing to ever happen to Hydra.”

“Was I?” He looked flattered.

“You created more instability and chaos in a few days than Hydra had been able to coordinate in years.”

“That is my specialty, I suppose.”

Janie had not put the mallet down. “So what do you want?”

“My brother has been here some time with his woman, Jane Foster. A little family reunion is in order. But first,” Loki leaned against the wall, “you are the Winter Soldier—weren’t they fighting you of late?”

“Yes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov and Sam Wilson.”

“Misunderstood villainy, an agent of chaos. I can appreciate that.”

Janie’s eyes narrowed. “I take it you aren’t here to kill anyone?” She laid the mallet down.

Loki smiled. “No, I’m not.”

“Got any armies up your sleeves?”

“Ha, not today.”

“So just here to be the anti-hero, then?”

Loki looked interested at the vocabulary, smirking in that sinister way of his. “Perhaps.”

Janie looked at him and shrugged a shoulder. “In that case, you want some coffee?”

“Coffee?” Loki said, trying out the word. “It would be impolite to refuse, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s a big concern for you.”

 

Tony staggered down the next morning. He stopped in the lab, staring at the Winter Soldier and the Frost Giant prince. He closed his eyes hard once, twice and then looked behind him. “Hey, uh—so. Uh. Jarvis. Mind telling me why I didn’t know that _this_ guy was in my house.”

“I did tell you, sir. As I told you that Ms Barnes wanted to install the reactor herself.”

“Why did you let her do that!”

“I did not, sir. You gave your explicit permission.”

“When! I don’t remember that!”

“Sir, at the time, you were with Miss Potts.”

“At dinner?”

“After dinner, sir.”

Tony drug his hand over his stubbled face. “You shouldn't ask me these things when I’m drinking with Pepper, Jarvis.”

“I have been monitoring them, Sir. Loki has shown no sign of hostility.”

“Yeah, sure. Like he’d have to.”

“We can hear you, you know,” Janie said, loudly.

Tony grumbled. “What are you doing here?” he pointed at Loki.

“Waiting to see my dear brother. I know he’s here somewhere. I do like this--coffee. It's good. Different aftertaste than tea.”

“How do you know that?”

"Well, because I've tried both now. Don't worry, I'm not going to smash the cups everywhere. What a waste, even in Asgard, what a waste."

Tony crossed his arms, eyebrows cocking. 

“Where else would he be? He does like you all so much. The woman being here certainly helps.”

“You know if you try anything—“

“Yes, yes, death and mayhem and dismemberment and all that.”

“Yeah, well, Jarvis, where is Thunderdome?”

“Sir, he left with Captain Rogers several hours ago. I believe he wanted to go drink.”

Tony looked around. “He knows Cap can’t get drunk….right?”

“I don’t think so, sir. He didn’t appear to believe Captain Rogers when he told him.”

Tony snorted and then started laughing. “All right. Oh man, bring them here whenever they get back. This will be hilarious.”

“That’s fine, I’m not really here for Thor. He asked me very politely to bring a sample to his woman, Jane Foster. She’s not so bad. I like her, even.”

“That must be a real new one for you,” Tony replied. He went over to start a new pot of coffee. “Where’s your unicorn helmet. I liked that one.”

Loki just smiled, green-gold shimmers raced up his form. “I like surprising people.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony drawled. “Like getting a cut and wash at the salon? Heh, we’d all be surprised by that.” Tony turned back and jerked. His coffee spilled over onto his hand. The cup fell and shattered. “You son of a bitch.”

Loki sat where he had been but now he was wearing an Iron Man suit. “Is this too much?” he asked. “It is entirely possible, you know. All things are with the Tesseract.” More shimmering and this time he changed again—

Janie watched—as a surreal mirror of herself appeared. But this Winter Soldier was bigger around the chest, taller, thicker arms. This Winter Soldier was a male, who turned smoke-blue eyes on her. “James Barnes might exist in a parallel universe. It’s all down to probability.”

Janie got up, taking a step back from him.

Loki-as-the-Winter-Soldier stood, looming. “I’ve traveled through wormholes, seen alternate space. I have used the ancient knowledge of the Tesseract. So much more is possible than you could ever imagine. Hydra has such a one, you know. Twins. One of them can control these probabilities. Would you like to see what else she could do?”

“Knock it off, pal,” Janie spat at him.

“Why, you sound almost like yourself,” he cooed at her. The male form changed again. The Winter Soldier getup was gone, replaced by a World War Two American army service dress uniform. Classically handsome, and tall, with twinkling blue eyes and dark brown hair. “What do you think? Is it me?” The smirk was devilish. “Or is it you?”

The door opened. Jane Foster and Darcy started. Darcy smiled a little, “Who is _that_?”

“James Barnes.”

“Huh?” said Jane Foster.

And then the World War Two uniform was gone, and Loki reappeared.

“Aw, dammit,” Darcy grumbled. “Of course it was you, you jerk. That guy was cute.”

Loki just laughed. “Miss Foster. My brother has asked me to come and see you. How kind of him. Is he off drinking?”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Loki. Why did he ask you to come here?”

“He said you were attempting to recreate Asgardian technology. You mortals might find it useful here.”

“Well, he’s out with Captain Rogers right now, so I guess you’ll have to wait.”

“Patience is a strong point of mine.”

“Yeah, but so is meddling,” Jane said. She did a slight double-take at Barnes. “You installed the reactor yourself?”

Janie was leaning against the wall now. “Jarvis helped. Couldn’t sleep.”

Jane Foster sighed. “We need to start locking the labs. Jarvis, please don’t let them do that anymore.”

“I apologize, Miss Foster. Mister Stark gave his express permission.”

“Well, when _Mister Stark_ isn’t in his labs, he’s trying out new self-destructive tendencies and so can’t be trusted!”

Tony shrugged. “Well….she’s not wrong. But seriously, Jarvis—don’t listen to her.”

“Of course, sir.”

“What if someone comes in here and blows something up—“

“Hey, my house, my AI, my rules. You wanna have your own AI, you build it.”

“Fine,” said Jane. “I will. I will build my own AI.”

"With Blackjack and hookers," Darcy finished.

Tony scoffed, pouring himself some more coffee.

Loki just smiled at everyone.

Pepper appeared and stopped in the doorway. She showed no surprise at Loki's presence. “Ah. Morning party?” She asked. She lifted a box. “I brought doughnuts.”

“Oh, doughnuts! Lay them bad boys down!” Darcy hopped up to look through the selection. “Is Bruce still here?”

Pepper smiled gently. “He is—he meditates in the mornings, Miss Lewis.”

“Oh—well, he likes chocolate—so leave him one with sprinkles, you guys.”

“How do you know that? Maybe he likes custard.” Tony scowled.

“Cause I’m not stupid,” Darcy shot back. “Also, I asked him. Poli-sci majors are good at asking questions.”

“Not so good at answering. Republican or Democrat is a fifty-fifty shot.”

Darcy huffed at him. “You wish it was that easy.”

“I know it’s that easy.”

Darcy flipped him off.

Tony returned it.

“Okay, okay, everyone eat doughnuts, drink coffee and we all will feel a lot better,” said Pepper, cajolingly.

Janie did not remember doughnuts. Darcy brought her a simple glazed one. She thanked the girl quietly and tore a chunk off to bite. Deliciously sweet, flakey and lovely, she was quick to polish off the rest.

Loki seemed to enjoy doughnuts a great deal and had fun picking out ones to try. "You know, this custard...it's a very strange texture."

An hour later, the elevator thumped. There was muffled laughter.

“Shit, Jarvis—why did you bring us to the lab?” Steve voice reached them. He was struggling with laughter. “Dammit, Thor—hahaha, I told you!”

“I have made my ancestors proud! And you, my friend, you as well. You drank a great deal. I admit, better than I—you still seem unaffected.”

Steve stumbled out of the elevator, laughing as he struggled to keep hold of Thor. “I warned you, Thor—I warned you. It’s a good thing you were buying.”

“You have cheated. We shall have another match tomorrow!”

“I think you need to lie down.”

“Where is Jane! Where is my queen, my Jane!”

Jane Foster’s ears burned red but she flitted into the hallway to meet them. “Oh, Thor. What are you doing? Thor.” She cupped his face.

He leaned down and kissed her, let go of Steve and grabbed her up, holding her close to him. One hand went into her hair, massaging through the strands, his mouth searing into hers. Steve let go of Thor and stepped away, looking embarrassed.

“Thor—“

“Yes, my Jane,” he murmured, hot and breathy into her neck.

“Th-Thor—everyone is looking at us.”

“It is out of envy, my love.”

"He's not wrong, there," Darcy snickered.

“Thor, Loki is here.”

Thor drew back and blinked blearily. He set her down. “Loki.”

Loki was leaning against the wall, smirking. “Thor.”

“Brother,” Thor said and went to him. He embraced the smaller man roughly. “What brings you to us?”

Loki stepped away from his embrace. “You asked me to come. To give samples for Miss Foster.”

“Indeed, my brother! COME! We must have a drink!”

“I think you’ve had enough,” Loki said blandly, eyes hooding at the very idea of drinking with Thor. “Miss Foster, please take me to your laboratory. I will get you what you need.” He grabbed Thor by the shoulder and shoved him. The huge prince stumbled into the elevator, laughing.

Steve watched them go, scratching his hair.

“He didn’t believe you, eh?” Tony asked, cackling.

“Nope. They never do.”

“Ha! Nice.”

Darcy looked at the doughnut box. “Well, that was interesting—but I’m gonna take one of these upstairs because if Rogers digs into this box—he’ll eat them all.”

“He will,” Tony agreed.

Darcy wrapped two doughnuts in napkins and headed out.

 

Bruce took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. Everything felt clear this morning. He shrugged on a button-up shirt and jeans, sliding on his loafers. Tony called them his ‘old man’ shoes. But honestly, he’d gone through a lot of shoes. He’d rather have outdoor slippers than have to keep buying new shoes every time he transformed. He poured himself some orange juice—

And there was a knock on the door.

Couldn’t be Tony, he didn’t knock. Maybe Pepper. He went, opened it. “Darcy,” he said, stupidly. It still felt strange every time this girl—well, young woman—appeared beside him. He couldn’t quite figure it out. He was old enough to be her father. And yet she seemed…well, determined to win him over. He just wasn’t sure why. She was so kind to him—and such a pretty girl surely had younger, more appropriate, uh…suitors?

Darcy floundered a second and then said in a rush, “Uh, Pepper bought doughnuts. Thought I heard you say you liked the chocolate ones—so I brought you a couple cause Thor and Steve showed up and I was afraid they would eat them.”

Bruce looked down, a bit embarrassed. “Oh, uh. Well. Thank you. Um. Oh yes—sprinkles. I like those. Um. Well, I—uh—was just about to pour some, some, uh—juice. Do you want some?”

Darcy smiled, unconsciously tugging her cap down over her eyes and then hurriedly pushing it back up. “Um, yes. That’d be great. I—uh—I love juice. It’s pretty awesome. You know, it’s, uh, it’s the blood of fruit. We, uh--murder it for. Breakfast.”

Bruce burst out laughing. “Yes.” He stepped aside to let her in.


	10. Hashtag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING/SPOILER: This discusses the events of Guardians of the Galaxy, guys!!
> 
> Creeper!Rumlow being a creeper.

Loki opened up his pack, removing a small black bag. He handed it to Jane Foster. “Here, that’s what we use to create the fields for the Soul Forges.”

Jane looked suspiciously at the bag. She glanced at Thor, who was drinking coffee now and looking less glassy-eyed. The big man nodded.

Jane took it. “Er. Thanks. And, uh---well, I’m not sorry I hit you in Asgard but….thank you for saving my life…with the Aether.”

Loki shrugged. “Do not worry, you are still young. I may yet get many of chances to kill you.”

“Loki,” Thor said, raising his eyebrows.

“I merely joke, brother.” He winked.

Thor continued to eye him.

“What?” Loki asked, smirking.

“Why are you really here?”

Loki’s eyebrows raised. “Why, to assist your woman.”

“Do not call her my ‘woman’.”

“That is what she professes to be, correct?” He glanced at Jane.

“Her name is Jane. She is a scientist. You will respect her in my presence. Call her Jane.”

Loki looked back at Thor, studying him. “I see. Forgive me, Lady Jane of Science.” He bowed mockingly over his arm.

Jane rolled her eyes.

“Now, answer the question, Loki. What are you really doing here?”

Jane sat down on the other side of the table in Laboratory Seven, watching them.

Loki’s sharp smile cut through the air. “You invited me.”

“I did no such thing.”

Jane blinked and sat up straighter.

“Stark was going to give Jane diamonds to use for her Forge. And then you show up with exactly what she needs.”

Loki chuckled. “Well, as it turns out, I do have a message for you.” He glanced at Jane.

“She can stay,” Thor intoned, not breaking eye contact with Loki.

Loki nodded. “The Aether was taken out of Asgard to the Collector. Recently, the Collector’s…well, collection—was destroyed.”

Thor stiffened a hair, sitting up. “What happened?”

“They found an Infinity Stone. As it turned out Gamora—daughter of Thanos—I’m sure you remember him—betrayed them. She stole the Stone….sort of—and took it to the Collector to sell. But one of them was stupid and Ronan found them—a contact of Thanos, apparently, that he was planning to make a trade with.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“I am aware—though, honestly, my plan was better. And I did not have anyone’s daughters around to betray me.”

“Yes, it was your own doing.”

Loki smirked. “Indeed. Anyway—the Collector opened the orb which contained the Stone. One of his servants grabbed it—so that, plus Ronan showing up—the collection was destroyed—well, that one, anyway. As of yet, the Aether has not been accounted for.”

“This Gamora…Thanos’ daughter. She betrayed him. So she is a potential ally.”

“Possibly. One of those assassin-types, I think. She is currently with—last I heard anyway—with a Peter Quill…who apparently originally came from Earth, a giant tree humanoid and…” Loki looked stumped. “This.” He flicked his fingers and a shimmering image of the group flickered into life.

“It’s a raccoon,” Jane said. “That thing—it’s wearing clothes.”

“There are very strange things in the other eight realms, Jane,” Thor told her.

“There are strange things in this one, apparently,” Loki said. “What is a _raccoon_?”

“Who is that?” Thor pointed.

Loki looked at the very large man. “I believe they called him…Drax? But this one,” he pointed to the human male. “He’s only half human. He held the Infinity Stone in his hand and was not destroyed.”

“So…perhaps we can make contact with them. These Stones are too dangerous to be unaccounted for. Especially now that Thanos is actively searching for them. The Tesseract is held in Asgard….and now the Aether could be lost.”

“What do these Stones do?” Jane asked

“Well, they are powerful on their own—together, they can wipe out all life as we know it.”

“Oh, so another Monday through Friday for you guys.” Jane lifted her phone. “This is a raccoon, Loki.”

Loki took her cell phone to study the picture and the accompanying Wikipedia entry. “They do not normally speak then?”

“Uh, no. That one does?”

“Yes, calls himself ‘Rocket’, I have heard.”

“I suppose I’ve seen weirder things.”

“Have you?”

“Well, I did hit your brother with my car once—er, twice. Twice? There wasn’t a third time, was there? And then Darcy took him down with her Taser.”

“What is a _Taser_?”

“It’s, uh….sort of like a gun. Only non-lethal. But it uses electricity to stun someone and take them down.”

Loki’s eyes lit up. “So _that_ is where that story came from.”

“What story?” Thor asked.

“The one where the tiny mortal took down the Prince of Asgard with his own element.”

Thor seemed to realize the conversation was derailing. “Jane, will you be able to get to work on the field generator with these?” He pointed to the little bag.

“Yes, I can start today.”

“Don’t tell Darcy about this.”

“About the Forge?”

“No…no, about….about Asgard knowing she….used her Taser weapon on me.”

Jane fought a smile. “I won’t. She’d love it too much.”

Thor looked at Loki.

He grinned. “Why Thor. I would _never_.”

Thor grabbed his cup of coffee as if to throw it at him—and with a cackle, Loki vanished.

 

 

_Notations: 06 July 2002_

_Project Lead: Lisa Sebasilla_

_The Subject will now be permanently moved to an underground facility in Washington DC. While her arrival has caused much interest in our agents, B. Rumlow was selected to guard her after transportation. She is still held in the cryo-chamber but will be unfrozen so to update her on her new surroundings and the care needed in a post-9/11 United States. Agent Rumlow has taken an interest in the experiments done on the Subject but he is different from most in his active pursuit of information about the transformation. He has volunteered to be her POC (point-of-contact) for US-based mission objectives and desires to work closer with the Subject. His interest does not appear to be sexual and so may be permitted, providing he passes the necessary clearances._

 

 

Rumlow had been fascinated with the Winter Soldier. A woman, frozen in time, body kept perfectly conditioned. Sure, she didn’t know fudge from fruit salad when she was unfrozen but she didn’t really need to eat anyway. His job for a short time was observing her during feedings. They would put together some kind of nutrition shake—out of chalky powders and some frozen fruit or jam, blend it to together and tell him to go make her drink it.

She did not seem to care for it but typically, she downed it without question. When she didn’t—that was when he got curious. He put the cup down in front of her. “Drink.”

She looked at the plastic cup, then up. She never looked directly at him—or anyone, for that matter—her gaze extended to just around their collarbones and would hover. She looked away.

“Drink, stupid,” Rumlow told her and nudged her with his boot.

She stayed still, staring off at the wall.

Rumlow smiled and knelt. “I getcha. Tired of this liquid shit, yeah? Hey, how about try this, kiddo.” He opened up his cargo pocket and took out a chocolate bar. He bit into the end, letting her watch him eat it, swallow and then he smiled and offered a piece to her.

Her eyebrows furrowed, curious, suspicious.

“You remember chocolate, mop top? They had that in the forties. Daddy didn’t take you to the soda fountain for an ice cream?” He took her hand and pushed the chocolate into it. He watched her, examining, curious as she leaned in and smelled it.

All of a sudden, a strange look came over her face. Almost like she _remembered_ the scent. She bit into the bar. Let it sit in her mouth and melt. Another bite, another—until it was gone. She licked her hand, where chocolate had melted to it and then looked at him.

“Sorry, guess you need to do some more tricks first.” Rumlow placed the shake back in front of her and sat down in the nearby chair, gun strung casually across his knees.

She picked up the shake and downed it.

About a half hour later, she was throwing up.

“Looks like your body isn’t use to sweets or solid foods,” Rumlow told her, grabbing a fistful of her hair to hold her head still over the bowl she was puking in. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so goddamn stupid and just stick to the fucking drinks.” He threw her back into the chair.

It was always so fascinating—how he could throw her around, hurt her as much as he wanted—and she wouldn’t so much as lift a finger to protect herself. She just took it because there were _orders_. And she didn’t attack until someone gave her that order. He grabbed her hair again, pulling her up and into him. “I could fuck you right now. Fist of Hydra—I could fuck you til your next mission. And you’d just take it. Unless you snapped. You ever snapped, Asset? Ever just became aware again. Pissed off at all of us for killing your buddy Steve and keeping you alive. Killing everyone and keeping you alive. Bet you’re real dangerous out there. But you’re just a tool. Hydra likes you because you’re convenient. Anyone can deaden their emotions and kill. You aren’t special. You’re like a goddamn vegetable. You’re a stuffed animal. Something that waits for someone _else_ to come along and make them special.” He struck her across the face. “Or maybe you only like it when someone’s hurting you. So used to it now, yeah? I could be like you. I should be the agent that Hydra wants.” He smirked. “I could be that one. Except with a functional damn brain.” He shook her. “What do you think?”

She looked up and met his eyes.

He twitched. “Don’t you fucking look at me.” He hit her again. “Make you hot, Winter Soldier? Gonna tell me none of them Ruskies ever fucked you over the table? Not that you’d remember.” He shoved her back into her chair, scoffing.

Rumlow didn’t see her again for nine years. In 2011, when they found Captain America beneath the ice and, more importantly, still _alive_ , they brought her out of cryo to give her updates.

Rumlow was sitting across from her, smirking in that shitbag way of his. The asset showed no recognition of Captain America. She seemed more interested in him being frozen. It made her look at her cryo-chamber and then back at the video. She looked around the screen.

“He has no cryo-chamber. He was frozen in ice, underwater. Not like you,” said Sebasilla, the project lead for the East Coast.

She was stuffed back into the chair that night, strapped down by the ankles, head, neck and wrists. She did not sleep. She lay there and seemed to drift. No conscious thoughts, just emptiness. It meant nothing to her when Rumlow came in again.

“You remember me this time? No? I’m Rumlow. I’m gonna have a look around. So you be quiet.”

Her smoke-blue eyes followed his progress around the room. He seemed to be checking equipment, looking at something, or maybe looking _for_ something. She didn’t know. Wasn’t her business to know.

And then he sat down next to her, meeting her eyes in the dim light. “You know, I’ve been selected to be part of his team. In a few months, they’re going to give your Captain a strike team. And you know who the lead is?” He cocked a thumb at himself. “This guy. And _this_ guy wants to see what makes you goddamn super soldiers so fucking special.” He looked down, unwrapping a syringe and then pushing it into her arm.

She did not flinch, eyes just going down to the needle, watching blood sprint into the holding chamber.

“You know how hard it is getting any of these damn scientists to let me look at their notes? Heh, who needs them. You are the experiment. The walking source code is right here.” He wrapped a band around his arm. “So what do you think?” He pumped his fist and found his vein, jumping with blood. “Turns out we have the same blood type. Isn’t that convenient?”

He smirked again, licking the corner of his mouth and sliding the needle into his own arm. He pushed the plunger in. “I want what you have. When we finally kill that righteous, stupid motherfucker, I wanna be the one to do it. And I’ll drag his stupid ass back here and let him see you. And that’ll be the last nail in the coffin. See the one person he remembers—who will never remember him back.”

Janie Barnes said nothing. The Winter Soldier said nothing.

Blank acceptance.

Emptiness.

Janie didn’t hear until she was running for those four months that Rumlow had gone unaccounted for after the helicarrier fiasco. He was presumed dead. She had to wonder though—if he’d injected himself with some of her blood—if maybe he had somehow survived.

 

 

 

She woke up outside. The bitter wind shook her, piercing right through her thin, civilian clothes. Her hands touched the cotton, feeling her breasts, her stomach, hips. Out of the chamber still, self-aware for now. She reached out, finding a railing and gripping into it. Then she looked down. Her feet were bare but still planted firmly on the flooring of the balcony. And then her body seemed to relax. She wasn’t where she’d gone to sleep—but that wasn’t unusual. But she didn’t seem to be in any personal danger. She twisted the metal arm, feeling the panels shift and ripple.

“Miss Barnes…”

Janie looked behind her. Not Steve. The other kind one. Banner. “Doctor Banner.”

“Miss Barnes,” he said again, slowly advancing. “I know things are hard right now….but…Steve wouldn’t be able to take it….if you…”

Janie furrowed her eyebrows and then, oh—of course—standing at the railing, barefoot in the middle of the night, known out-of-body behaviors. She stepped back from the railing. “I’m not going to jump.”

“I appreciate that. I’d have to stop you from dying, at least.”

“You…would turn into that giant…beast?”

“Yes, ha. The other guy. He’s pretty fast. Strong.”

“Why do you talk about him like he’s someone else?”

Banner came forward, standing next to her on the balcony. “I suppose it’s like you and the Winter Soldier. I didn’t ask for him. He’s still a part of me. But…not what I wanted.”

Janie looked back out into the city. “You can control him now, right?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“Maybe I’ll control her some time too.”

Bruce nodded. “Why don’t you come inside? It’s cool out here. Your feet have gotta be freezing. And Steve will have a heart attack if he has to wait any longer.”

“Steve?”

Bruce looked up at the moon, then back at her. “He’s…not good at saying much sometimes. He can be kind of a….well--the point is, he cares about you. He’s just afraid. Everyone is afraid some times. He has nothing left to lose—except you.”

Janie nodded and folded her arms, turning to walk back inside with him. “I woke up on the balcony,” she said to Banner. “I don’t know how I got there.”

They rounded the corner, where Steve was waiting by the main kitchen area island.

“Do you sleepwalk often?” Bruce asked, gesturing for Steve to sit with them.

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t in New York,” Steve said. “But after I found you in Italy…you spoke a lot. You talked in your sleep a lot.”

“Because of the trauma--probably. And the sleepwalking now--well, maybe because of the freezing,” Bruce concluded. “The sleep-state and waking-state are similar in ways for you. During sleep, the mind processes memories, events of the day, feelings, emotions. Maybe because you weren’t ever in real sleep—your mind is attempting to constantly process. So you may wake up in places you don’t remember going.”

Janie nodded. “Because my brain is trying to make up for seventy years of unprocessed events?”

“Sort of. Sounds that way.”

“When they woke me up—they said strange things might happen like that. Body chemistry—constantly attempting to readjust, trying to prepare for stasis. I didn’t sleep more than an hour at a time for a year after they pulled me from the ice.”

“What helped you sleep?” Janie asked quietly.

Steve was quiet for a long moment and then, “I worked out until I dropped. For hours. And then when that stopped working…I listened to music. It’s different than what we had—I mean, I can play a CD all night. It’s not like records.”

“Music…”

“You might remember some of it. Here….” Steve got up. “Jarvis, could you play some swing for us?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Swing…”

“Yeah, c’mon. _You_ taught me this. I know you know, deep down somewhere. C’mere.”

Janie got up, slowly walking up to Steve. He removed his shoes and took off his sweatshirt. She looked at his t-shirt and slacks. “What do I—“

“C’mon.” He took her hands.

The music started, big band—loud and thumping, pushing the heartbeat. Steve gripped tighter. “Janie…just trust me, okay? Do you still trust me?”

Janie looked into his face. “Yeah…” she murmured. “Yeah. I do.”

For a long moment, they just stood there together. This feeling swelling in her—it was going to burst out—like holding too much water in her cheeks. She looked down, back at Doctor Banner—but he was gone, exiting through the far door. She looked back at Steve. “I’m sorry about the other day. I…we’ve been through a lot. And you’re right about the triggers and stuff…”

“S’all right, Janie,” he said, smiling with that stupid, full honest sincerity. “I want what’s best for you. So c’mon—let’s see what you remember.”

So only Jarvis got to watch him teach her the steps—a sad mirror of a night seventy-five years ago in a dance hall in New York City. But soon they were stumbling, laughing and Jarvis let the music play and play and play….

 

 

“Did you know, Darcy, that in Asgard—they talk of the mortal who brought down Thor with his own element.”

Darcy burst out laughing. “You’re lying.”

“I do not. I am serious.”

Darcy leaned back in her chair, waving her hands. “Yes~! I’m on front page of Asgard-Reddit!”

“What is Reddit?”

Darcy cackled. “Come, Loki of Asgard and I will teach you of Midgard.” She lifted her phone and took a picture of him. “Right onto Twitter. Hashtag _#goodguynow_. Hashtag _#itsnoteasybeinggreen_. Hashtag _#antihero_.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “You might be the only one who says that.”

“Who cares. Here. This is Reddit. Front page of the internet!”


	11. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers/Jane Austen Barnes

Jane Foster sat curled up in an armchair, wrapped in a blanket. Darcy had threatened her with a spatula, forcing her away from her computers and equipment to come and eat something (and shower, cause, geez). She sipped a mug of hot coffee. “Thor and Loki…they talked while I was there with them.”

Darcy did a slight double-take from her waffle (her specialty). “And didn’t try to kill each other?”

“No….Darce…you remember the Aether?”

“That red misty stuff that made you disappear for six hours?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I remember…wigged Thor out. That was why he took you to Asgard.”

“Yeah….they took it to someone in one of those other realms, I guess. Someone called The Collector. Apparently his place was…all messed up? And the Aether is…well, they’re not sure if it’s gone or not. Loki said he had yet to hear if it was accounted for. Apparently it’s an ‘Infinity Stone’ or something.”

Darcy sat back on the couch, pulling her plate of waffles to her. “Scares you a little?”

Jane looked at her and then down at her coffee. “I…couldn’t do anything. All my science and research and I…was useless. I couldn’t do anything. And I would have these flashes, visions, I guess. I didn't know what was real.”

“Jane.”

“I just don’t like feeling that way. Romanov offered to teach me how to use guns and defend myself and I’m glad to know the basics…but…my work is….so important to me. And finding that bridge to Asgard—but going there was nothing like I had ever imagined—but the Aether…got Thor’s mother killed. He doesn’t blame me, of course—but I still feel guilty. If I hadn’t been so stupid about—“

“Jane,” Darcy put her waffles down, seeing where this was going now. “Don’t start feeling guilty about Thor.”

“Wha—I just, my work has always been so important—“

“Your work still is important, stupid. That doesn’t mean you should feel guilty about the big lug. He adores you. If I had a guy look at me how he looks at you, I’d never leave his bedroom.”

“Darcy!”

“What! It’s true. C’mon. You can’t feel guilty about loving the guy. You love him, right?”

Jane looked down at her coffee again, nosing at the rim of her mug. “Yeah…I do.”

“Then don’t worry—shit will work out. He loves you to pieces. You’d break his giant Viking heart if you backed out. And he’d be all honorable and shit and never bother you again. Just let him love you. And let yourself love him. Don’t be held back. I mean, how many other chances are you gonna get? A hot, cut, foreign prince has the hots for you. How often does that happen? You're living out the plot of a Disney movie. Only more awesome and better written. And not as many musical numbers. We should work on that.”

“Sounds almost too good to be true.”

“Usually, I’d agree with you. But in this case—despite some scary stuff—aliens, monsters, Aether vapor Doom Mist—it seems to be going pretty well despite all that. He’s down here all the time.”

“What about you?”

Darcy picked up her waffles again, cutting out a corner. “What about me?”

Jane gazed into her black coffee, seeing the reflections, the shimmers, the darkness she’d seen in the Aether. She looked at Darcy. “I’m afraid sometimes…that you’re just wasting your life looking after me.”

Darcy snorted. “Oh yeah, cause I can’t wait to go looking for a job in this shit economy with my BA in Political Science.” She smiled. “Seriously, Jane. I wanna be here. I consider us friends, you know. You remember that word, right? Friends? Those other people in the world who care about you.”

“Yes,” Jane shoved her shoulder.

“They’re the family you pick, yeah? C’mon. I’m not as dumb as I look. My life is exciting now.” She smiled.

Jane gave her one of her sincere, big smiles and sipped some coffee. “Thanks, Darce.”

“Yeah, well. Just take me to Asgard sometime. I wanna see it.”

“Why don’t you go with Loki?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Hell no!”

Jane laughed. “Not your type?”

“Could you imagine being married to _Loki_. Honey? I’m pregnant! And nine months later you give birth to a goddamn horse or something.”

“That’s—a horse!”

“Have you ever _read_ the old Norse stories, Jane? There is some weird shit in there!”

“I’ve read some of them—mostly, well…”

“The ones about Thor?”

“And Odin and Frigga…Thor assures me that not all of them are true. But he was pretty honest about the ones that were.”

“Thor got around, huh?”

Jane looked uncomfortable. “Well, apparently—but he’s a prince. He was honest about it. But apparently since, well….we, uh, met—he hasn’t been with anyone else.” Her ears were burning.

“Oh my God, you two are so cute. It’s disgusting.”

“Well, what about you? You and…Doctor Banner.”

Darcy looked down, blowing hair out of her face. “I…well. He’s….well, what do you think?”

“He’s old enough to be your father.”

“So? Once you get passed twenty-one, that hardly matters. Besides, Thor is like a thousand or something, so you can’t talk.”

“I wouldn’t have pinned Doctor Banner as your type.”

Darcy still didn’t look at her. “He’s….just. He’s kind. And he laughs at all my bad jokes. He’s really got a sharp sense of humor. He very kind though—even though he’s so angry and frustrated. I wish that I could help…but I can barely do any math at all—let alone that level of science. I dunno—I guess I have a soft spot for the guy. He’s so smart and a genuinely good guy…but people are cruel to him because they don’t understand him. He doesn’t say it—but Tony is the best friend he’s ever had. He’s the only one who accepts him completely. I think maybe he still doesn’t understand why I try to talk to him. I’d like to be his friend, at least, you know?” Darcy looked at Jane and startled. “J-Jane?”

The scientist looked stricken. “Oh God, is this what I sound like when I talk about Thor? Cause, wow. You really do care about him.”

Darcy wrinkled her nose.

“I didn’t mean that in a weird way—just—it’s so obvious when it’s someone else, you know? It’s—“

There was a knock on the door. Darcy put her waffles down and went to open it. “Oh hey, speak of the devil.”

“Not to worry, it is I--not the devil. I am sorry to bother you at this time of night. May I see Jane?”

“Jaaane—your coffee replacement is here!”

Thor looked puzzled but Jane smothered a laugh and went to the door.

“You look radiant. You’ve spent the day assisting our cause with your….astrophysics. I have been asking Jarvis to explain the principles to me. Perhaps I can pull you from your work.” He touched the side of her face. “Perhaps to spend your energy elsewhere.”

“Oh God.” Darcy made gagging sounds. “Get the hell out of here! Hahaha! And don’t you dare bring her back tonight, Thor! Take care of my friend!”

Thor smirked, put his arm around Jane to lead her away.

Jane looked back at Darcy. Darcy gave her a thumbs-up.

 

 

Steve and Janie sat on his balcony. The moon was high.

“You know,” Janie said, “Rumlow was never accounted for.”

“He was in the same building as Sam. I’d say there’s no way he survived but, well, been there done that.”

“I remembered….yesterday—he came into the exam room one night. He took a sample of my blood and injected it in himself. We have the same blood type. Not that I think that kind of change can happen with one shot of blood—but…”

“Yeah. Zola had only given you a couple injections before you fell from the train. And it saved your life.”

“Just a thought to pass around. If he’s still skulking around somewhere….someone should find him.”

“To keep tabs on him.”

Janie shrugged a shoulder. “I guess, if you want.”

Steve looked exasperated. “We’ve not gonna kill an unarmed man in a hospital.”

Janie snorted. “You won’t. I would. It’s easier in a hospital. Most people go there to die anyway.”

“I’m gonna make you dance again if you don’t stop being so pessimistic.”

Janie cracked a smile. She looked at Steve. “Well, quit trying to get killed and I won’t be so pessimistic.”

He smiled back. “I’ve missed you, damn.”

“You too. Stevie Wonder.”

He grinned. “Janie Wonder.”

“We did some stupidly dangerous stuff back then…with the Commandoes. I’ve been remembering bits and pieces with them.”

Steve felt his whole being shift. Someone he could discuss this with—someone who had been there. “You were a great sniper.”

“You were a great target, you asshole. Everyone was always shooting at you.”

“That’s why I had you.”

Janie suddenly straightened. “I remember this one time behind the German line….” She swept off the small glass table and then brought back salt and pepper shakers, Steve’s mug of coffee, her mug of coffee and their napkins, building a set of fortified positions. “We came in from the south. You went first, because you’re a noble dick.” She grabbed a spoon and walked it towards her mug (representing the Hydra base). “I never told you how freaked out I always was by you going in alone. Some part of me still…saw you as that shrimp from Brooklyn. Or if it suddenly stopped being permanent and you got killed on my watch. I’d have never forgiven myself.” She looked at the spoon. “Sometimes, I…think back on those days and I wonder if I remember them right. Or if my perception of memory has been too fucked by Zola. It always seems like there’s more I should remember. There’s something else—something important. But I can’t find it.”

“It’ll come in time. I still dream about finding you in Zola’s lab. Only I never find you. But I can hear you, murmuring your name, rank, serial number—and I just run and run and run through halls and shadows—but I never find you.”

Janie looked at him, touched his hand lightly. “I…I have dreams like that—where I finish my mission. And then remember who you are.” She shook her head. “Well—though—I do remember some useful things. I know where some of the current Hydra bases are. If you get me a satellite map…I have the coordinates memorized. I don’t know the order or what they look like---but I had to memorize the coordinates in case something happened. There are certain places they wanted me to fall back to if something happened on a mission.”

“We’ll get to Tony and start looking them up. Like I told Carter after you fell…I won’t stop until everyone in Hydra is dead or captured. We’ve still got a lot of work to do. I know we’ve been taking time trying to get everything all worked out. But it won’t be long before we start running operations again. Fury is chomping at the bit for it.”

“….am I going?”

Steve looked at her. “Well…I’m all for it. But…you know, the others….they…well, I asked to at least just let you come along for a couple missions. See how you handle it. Then maybe you’ll be able to come again. Watch my back for me.”

“Just like back then. Only now we’ve both crazy strong. And well, I guess some things are still the same. You’re still the only one in the goofy outfit.”

Steve pushed her chair. “Brat.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Steven Grant Rogers! Wait til I tell your mama what a prick you are! Insultin’ a lady like that!”

“You have never been a lady. Not in the traditional sense.”

“Delicate feminine flower. You mean I’m not one?” She looked hurt.

Steve burst out laughing.

She grinned. “All right shincracker, show me some more dance moves. I think I remembered something when we were dancing earlier.”

They went inside, Janie pulled on some sweatpants over her shorts.

“Jitterbug is tough. You wanna try it? You tried to teach me—but I had an asthma attack and you half-carried me out. I learned it later though.”

“Jitterbug,” she repeated and slid unconsciously into a—

“Like the Lindy Hop. Janie, relax. We’re not going into battle, okay. You trust me, remember.”

Janie took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“This is a lot like swing. Only more demanding. You ready?”

She nodded.

Jarvis selected music for them. This dancing was more strenuous, faster, acrobatic. Steve didn’t even break a sweat. He was taking it slower for her sake. Until she got the hang of it. And then he sped up. And when she closed her eyes, or focused solely on the dance, the moves, the scent of his too-hot skin—it really was like being back in Brooklyn seventy years ago.

Except back then she didn’t get to dance with Steve. And in the middle of the song, she didn’t grab Steve by his shirt and when he tried to flip her, she planted her foot and flipped _him_. He landed on his feet, bracing low, kneeling—expecting her to strike. But she grabbed him instead.

“Steve…”

They were both sweating a little, panting a little. Her fingers combed through his hair. She searched his eyes.

He seemed to make a decision—and leaned up, she leaned down.

It wasn’t a perfect kiss—but in making up for all the missed chances and opportunities—it was still wonderful. Her fingers grabbed into his blond hair and he was getting to his feet, shoving her back towards the table. She bumped it and it jarred them apart. Their mouths hovered half an inch apart, circling a little and then pressing back together. Her arm wrapped around his neck. He grabbed her under her leg and lifted her, putting her on the table. Her fingers scattered to his shirt, dragging down the front, grabbing into the hem and tearing it off. Her flesh hand moved over his skin, cataloging the musculature. Every bump, every bone, every line of muscle. His mouth moved from hers, down to her throat and his hands went down, pulling her loose t-shirt up and off, then the sports bra. He grabbed her breasts, palming them, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs.

She grunted softly, whole body tensing, spine arching into his hands.

“Y’okay?” he asked, voice low, husky.

“Yeah…”

“Did the scientists….hurt you?”

“I don’t remember. It wouldn’t surprise me. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Steve corrected gently.

“Yeah….but not right now. I’ve waited too goddamn long.” She connected their mouths again. “Have you…I mean, I went out a lot…but…but you never did….nnn….”

“N-no, I never did….and s-since I got back….I couldn’t….”

“Okay….okay….we shoulda just…I shoulda taught you. I’m sorry—“

“Don’t,” he replied, rough against her mouth. “Don’t.” He leaned over her, hands mapping out her torso, her belly button, hooking into the elastic waist of her sweatpants and pulling them off. Then the shorts. “If you….ha….if you need me to stop. You have to _tell_ me, okay?”

She was pulling his belt off, opening his jeans, wrapping her fingers around him. “Yeah, you too.”

Steve grit his teeth, grunted, nearly silent. He kicked off his jeans the rest of the way and got onto the table with her, put a knee between hers. Her flesh hand continued to stroke him to hardness. The metal arm, she was keeping at her side. He could feel it—just the coldness of it. He broke his gaze from her to look at it.

She followed his eyes. “I…er. Didn’t figure you’d, uh…”

“Go ahead,” he told her. “It…well, it’s…a part of you, y’know?”

Her right hand on him slowed, then stilled. She looked into his face, those earnest blue eyes and slowly lifted her metal hand. She kept watching his face, waiting for the revulsion or disgust. But as her fingertips touched his skin, he shuddered. In a good way.

“Go on,” he urged.

Her metal fingertips slid down his chest, made his abdominal muscles twitch.

“That is so weird,” he breathed. “But—but good. It’s weird. But, not bad.” His hands went down to her thighs again. He sank fingers between them, touching, sliding over the sensitive tissue there. He felt her breathing hitch. And then started when her metal fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Ohdamn,” he stuttered. His whole body wracked with a chill, then jitters, then heat. “Ah…J-Jan—“

“Just let me…do this—just…” she continued. He was forced to brace himself on the table as she stroked him, languid and slick with the metal hand, gently rubbing with the flesh one. He kissed her again, coming on her fingers.

“I’m sorry—I’m…”

“I didn’t say we were done,” Janie drawled. “C’mon, I’ll tell you what to do.”

Steve chuckled, only able to nod at her directions. He knelt over her, hand sliding back inward.

“Not too fast,” she murmured. “Too fast and you’ll go numb. Well, I’ll go numb. Slow, at first.” Soon he had her humming, twisting on the kitchen table. “You’re still hard, right?”

“Y-yeah.” She could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

“Okay…you…I want you to…”

“You…”

She drew him in, he pressed inside of her. She watched his eyes go wide and dark, blue deepening to a stormy purple.

She breathed, head thrashed. Sweat beading on her brow. His large, sure hands mapping every part of her that he could reach, mouth sucking on the side of her neck. Vaguely, she heard the table scrape against the floor, the legs wobbled. Steve was lost in sensation. She watched his face, his expressions shift and change. Single-minded, thought-obliterating pleasure. She held onto his shoulders, he buried his nose into her neck, shifted her hips and _that_ had her gasping. His palms kept her steady, nothing for him to hold her up. He was just so goddamn _strong_ now. It was nothing for him.

“Christ…ah…” he swore softly. “Th-there?”

“Uh-huh…ah… _there_. Ah—S-ste-- _hah_.”

His fingers gripped into her head, shook her. “Janie…”

She didn’t even think about it—a knee-jerk reaction. Her hand flashed across his face. Her palm appeared, angry and red on his skin. But he looked at her, with his eyes blown wide and dark and he smiled and tightened his grip. Her eyes glittered and she smirked. A flush rose up in his face. He thrust hard, deep. She dug into his skin, metal hand grabbing into the table, cracking the wood. He sunk down over her, taking a nipple in his mouth. Holding her hips, moving faster, rougher, the table hit the wall with a loud _thonk_.

It was just as well, her metal hand had crushed one of the table supports. So when Steve moved them—the table promptly collapsed. He took her to his bedroom, but when he knelt to her again, she flipped him. Straddling his thigh, sinking down on his cock, she grabbed his head and pulled him up to her to kiss him. His hands slid up, over, circling her hips, thumbing at the jut of bone. She moaned against his mouth. His palms found her breasts again.

She came in a dizzying rush. He followed her, flipping them over again. He nosed at her throat, sliding a hand down her thigh, listening to her shudder. He was still hard inside of her.

“Fuck,” she managed. “You….damn…”

He had the grace to look embarrassed but he kept his eyes on her face when he slid his fingers into her folds. He watched that haunted, feral keen in her eyes disappear. She trembled with it, letting her body relax into him, trusting him to take her apart and put her back together. Just like she had for him. He moved his fingers gently, small circles, had her coming again around him.

His nose touched hers, looking into her eyes. She looked wrecked, breathing hard and trembling. “You okay?”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Y-yeah….” She drew him down to her. He slipped down on his side, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him, protective and warm. She braced her thigh and slid himself back into her. His large palm cupped her hip, holding them together. His mouth traced up the back of her neck, bit there as he sped up, came again.

They lay there quietly together.

Janie swallowed hard, trying to smother the lump in her throat. She took a silent breath.

“Janie,” Steve murmured in the dim light, nose on her shoulder. “I can feel you shaking…”

Janie took a couple quicker breaths, then murmured. “I just….I’m… glad to be out…”

Steve turned her over to face him and pulled her in. He stroked her hair. “Me too.”

“You lost everything. And I—“

“You’re back. And it doesn’t matter how long it takes or how many triggers there are or relapses you have—you’re still my best friend—well, you’re my best girl, now. You’re gonna remember. And you’ll know I’m always honest—so when I say that even when I had nothing, I had you—I’m telling the truth. And if I’m gonna suddenly be seventy years in the future with someone—nobody I’d rather it be than you, Janie Wonder.”

And finally, she curled up to him and sobbed.

For loss. For death. Lost time. Lost chances. A lost life. Murders resurfacing: men, women—the collateral, usually children. Causing horror, chaos, destruction whenever she was….set _loose_. Like some goddamn feral dog. Killing didn’t bring the memories closer, it didn’t make the actions more raw. They were surreal, like a game, a dream. Soon to be thrown back into Stasis where none of her actions mattered and typically fresh from another mind wipe, she killed and brutalized with the efficiency of a master chef. It was almost an art. Her kills were fast, brutal, clean if she could get a shot in the right place—but her in-person kills tended to be messier. Maybe she thought the mess would incite some sort of emotion, _any_ sort of emotion. But it never really did. _Except for Prague._

  
But affection, the intense emotional and physical dynamics of sex….that’s where this—like a flood. Like suddenly shattering apart, let everything go. Stop trying to be the Winter Soldier _and_ Janie Barnes—just exist for the moment. Be in it with him. Accept what has become and what will be.

He stroked her hair. She cried herself to exhaustion silently and fell asleep against him. He wrapped his arms around her, buried his nose in her hair and followed her.

 

 

Loki appeared as a reflection. Appearing in glass before a girl in a ragged nightdress. Next to her, the boy was imprisoned. He’d been listening for some time, exploring the facility. He’d seen his glaive—that Chitauri Scepter—which he was beginning to suspect might be more than he initially thought. The project leaders called these two the Twins. So he could only presume that they were brother and sister. The boy was incredibly fast—he blurred with movement, encased in his tiny prison, bashing his own brains into the walls. Unstable at best.

The girl seemed mostly detached. Telekinesis, definitely. Her strange power over probability—he was interested in seeing. But if she had such a power—why was she allowing herself to be locked up?

Maybe there was something more here.

He glanced back to the girl—and she was looking at him. Not just at his reflection but _at_ him.

Loki smiled and winked. He stepped into her cell.

Her eyes tracked him.

“Tell me, my dear: who are you?”


	12. Beyond the Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussing Guardians of the Galaxy again.
> 
> Foster joins the Science Club
> 
> Tony and Bruce are BFF
> 
> Tony goes for surgery, cause LOL #starkplugs
> 
> The others head for Hydra bases.

“I’m gonna have the surgery, you know. Get the shrapnel removed. Keep the shavings, make Christmas ornaments out of it.”

Bruce started at this announcement, looking at Tony over the top of his glasses. “You sure?”

“Yeah, why not, right? Gotta let things go. Gotta fix things. Pepper is all scary now, ha. In a good way. Maybe I’ll build her her own suit, you know? And then…well, one less thing someone to rip out of me, right?”

Bruce looked thoughtful. “I think that’s good. It’s dangerous—“

“Yeah, so what.”

“—but some of the best surgeons in the world…I mean—they could remove it. You wouldn’t need that arc reactor anymore.”

“That’s the point.”

Bruce took off his glasses. “You’re okay with that?”

“Hey, more power for the suit if it doesn’t have to run me too. I mean…if I even need the suit anymore.” Tony looked down at the countertop, wiping some imaginary dust into his palm and dumping it in the trashcan.

“You look tired,” Bruce told him.

Tony laughed. “Nah.”

“Still shook up about New York?”

“No,” Tony drawled. “C’mon, that was, like, two years ago. Practically ancient history.”

“Pepper told me you still dream about it.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you start your mild-mannered sweet talk with Pepper. She is not so easily swayed.”

Bruce laughed. It was a pleasant sound: low, rumbling and warm. “I think you’d know if I was somehow sweet-talking Pepper Potts. Jarvis would have told you, at least.”

“Jarvis, has this uncouth denigrate been sweet-talking Pepper Potts?”

“No, sir. Doctor Banner has not been alone with Pepper Potts at any junction.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Tony grumbled.

“C’mon, try to imagine me sweet-talking.”

Tony looked up and then cackled. “You’re right. I can’t. You turn into one of my engineering professors whenever I try. It’s awkward.” He drummed on the counter and sat down on his spinning chair. “I will need someone to make sure I don’t die though. And to help Pep until I recover.

“Did one of your engineering professors try to sweet-talk you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“You already did,” Bruce informed him.

“What, New York? C’mon, really.”

“Hey, I’m not that kind of doctor. I’m not a therapist. Wasn’t even going to suggest it. Go see a different doctor.”

“Such as?” Tony scoffed.

“Foster,” Bruce said simply, looking at Tony through one of the display monitors.

“Foster? Oh, yes, of course. Astrophysicist. So she can tell me how out of this world I am.”

Bruce just smiled. “The Aether, Tony. She saw some things. You saw something in that portal.” He shrugged. “Makes sense. Maybe you and Foster and Barton—those two had something inside their heads try to pull them out and rearrange them.” He pulled a laptop to himself to make a note about one of the charts.

“Are you sure _you_ shouldn’t be talking to them.”

“Very funny. I suggested Foster because she’s not a soldier.”

“ _None_ of us are soldiers.”

Bruce paused in his typing. He looked at Tony, raising his eyebrows.

Tony looked away.

“….talk to Foster. At least try. She might be able to understand what you saw. Besides the fighting. You and I are the only ones without any combat training. When it comes to looking at us, versus Steve, Sam or Thor, Natasha or Clint…we—“

“I know that,” Tony said, a little more tersely.

Bruce’s mouth became a thin line. He nodded a little and went back to his screen.

For a few moments, there was a stilted silence.

Then Tony flipped a display around. “Hey, been working on this for you.”

Bruce looked up and put his glasses back on. “What?”

“This. C’mere.”

Bruce came around the table and started. “No. Not this again.”

“C’mon. Look—we make you a suit, you don’t get naked anymore. Fun for everyone. Sort of.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and started back for his display. “When are you planning the surgery?”

Tony shrugged. He turned the display back to himself, adjusted it. “Next week, maybe. Gotta tell Pepper eventually.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I’d say I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me. But I know better,” Pepper grumbled, sipping from her coffee mug.

“I miss her surprised reactions. I gotta do more. She never seems shocked anymore.”

“You have confidence in your mortal doctors?” Thor asked.

“What, cause everything’s better on Asgard?” Tony quipped. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Best surgeons in the country at my beck and call. Any of them would be thrilled to do my heart surgery.”

“I hope one of them burns his initials into your arteries,” Clint said, smiling.

“That is a lawsuit, I’ll have you know. Burning initials into a patient’s body. Geez, what kind of sicko would you have to be to plaster your name all over something like that.” He pointed at Steve. “Don’t answer that.”

Steve raised his hands. “I said nothing.”

Sam sat back, smirking. “So if we want to make our moves on Pepper, this is the time?”

Pepper grinned into her coffee cup, raising her eyebrows and shrugging at Tony when he looked at her.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Lando.”

“Maybe it won’t be him,” Pepper teased.

Tony scowled at them. “Well, maybe I’ll find a nurse afterwards then.”

“Tony—“ Pepper started, reproachful.

“All right, all right, guys,” said Steve, raising a hand. “Tony—they’re just teasing. Er, right?” He looked at Sam and Pepper.

Pepper laughed. Sam said, “Duh.”

“Well, we’ll stay and take care of things while you recover. When is the surgery?”

Tony huffed, turning his nose up at the rest of them. “Four days.”

“That…seems like really short notice.”

“That’s because it is,” Pepper confirmed.

“How’s the Soul Forge coming along?” Tony redirected, looking at Foster. “You better not mess up that lab while I’m out.”

“Almost finished.” Foster allowed a little smile. “…Loki was…actually quite helpful.”

“He gave her the gems she required.”

“And a book about Soul Forge construction.”

“When did he give you that?”

“In the elevator. When you were still very drunk.”

Thor smiled and crossed his arms. “We still must try again, Captain.”

“Yeah, sure thing, pal,” Steve laughed.

“What was that about anyway?” Tony asked, sitting on the top rim of the back of the chair.

“He came to inform us that he’d had word that the Aether has not yet been accounted for. The Collection it was given to for safekeeping was destroyed.”

They all looked at him.

“That seems like kind of a big deal,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes—but as we have no information, I thought it best not to burden this world with the worry. I regret enough that Jane had to be there to hear it.”

“How do you know that Loki isn’t lying?” Tony asked. “That wouldn’t exactly be new for him. I mean, you thought he was dead.”

“I see no gain from a lie about the Aether.”

“Just cause you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

Thor shifted his stance, eyes narrowing, becoming hard. “I know my brother is many things. And I will return to Asgard to question our sources myself. The Earth is under my protection.”

“Yeah, we really don’t need anything like the Tesseract back down here,” Natasha huffed.

“Things have already changed,” Clint interjected. “Now that we know it can be done—not everyone is as eager to keep the peace here. You know how many pieces of that Chitauri technology went missing after the fighting was over in New York? All of it. They are the base for all Dark Matter studies now. It’ll only be a matter of time before humans either create Dark Matter interstellar space ships or harness Dark Matter for a weapon. Or both. And those soldiers were controlled by their mothership or whatever—all the control modules—all the Chitauri bodies were recovered and taken for study by various agencies and universities. It was impossible to account for them. We’ve got some. And I know we’ve shared a few with Europe. By now, bodies and tech have probably already reached China and Russia on the Black Market.”

“That is a conversation for another day. Let’s go back to talking about my surgery. Very dangerous. Very risky. Very awesome.”

Steve crossed his arms and his gaze locked onto the table.

Natasha glanced sidelong at him.

Sam did as well, from Steve’s other side.

“It’s never going to end,” Steve murmured.

“No,” Clint agreed darkly. “It’s not.”

“And that staff that Loki used to control Barton and Doctor Selvig,” Steve added. “It was never accounted for. I assumed SHIELD picked it up. But there’s no account of it in any of the intake logs. Hydra could have it by now.”

“Probably for experiments,” Bruce said quietly.

Steve sighed. “Well…” he stood up. “We’ll be here for your surgery, Tony. Don’t die on the table.” He turned to head out, scratching his blond hair. He seemed somehow defeated.

Bruce looked at his notes. “It’s probably hardest for him to accept. He thought it would all be over with World War Two, right? And then now—Hydra and SHIELD are gone—“

“It will never be over. The sooner he accepts it, the better. The better for all of us,” Clint said.

“No one wants to do this forever,” Natasha said quietly. “No one does. Not even us,” she added, glancing at Clint.

Thor frowned. “I forget at times how short your lives are. For me, this is just one battle of hundreds. Thousands.”

“Yeah and how many years have you spent spacing them out. And how many will you have in the future?” Clint asked him. “Do you realize that Foster won’t be young forever.” He pointed at the doctor, who had remained silent this entire time. “She’ll die long before you do, Thor.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed. “Not if it can be helped.”

“Thor…” Jane started.

But the prince was already standing. “I will go to Asgard to inquire about the Aether. I will return.” He kissed her and turned away, picking up his hammer to head outside to the balcony. Foster followed him.

They all looked at each other.

Tony said, “So, I want to make Banner some body armor. What do you guys think?”

Bruce closed his eyes. “Shut up, Tony.”

Sam looked cautiously interested. “That would be good though, right?”

“No, it wouldn’t. Leave it alone,” Bruce said, sounding a little more annoyed. He got up. “I think I’ll go see what Lewis is up to.”

“She’s running lab results for Doctor Foster,” Tony answered, getting up.

“Well, guess I better go check on that.” He stalked out.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at Tony. “….maybe you should leave that alone, eh?” She stood up.

Tony scoffed. “Yeah right.”

“Before he gets mad and rips our heads off?” Clint hinted, following Natasha. The two assassins left together.

Sam stood next. “Well, good luck on the surgery?” He sauntered out. He pulled out his cell phone, scrolled through the contacts and clicked on _Sharon Carter_. If this was never gonna end, he was just gonna have to bite the bullet and quit being such a wimp about asking her out. At first he thought maybe Steve might want to ask her—but well, she was niece or granddaughter or something of Peggy Carter, which was weird. It would have been weird. Plus, Steve got so focused on the Winter Soldier—well, no point in waiting, right?

Pepper sighed. “I’m going to bed.”

Tony let her leave and sat on the edge of the table. He watched the incredible lights as the Bifrost sucked Thor away, back to Asgard. Jane Foster came back in, wiping the corner of her eye.

“Hey, Doc Foster. C’mere for a minute?”

She nodded, wiping her other eye quickly. “What is it?”

“Wanted to ask you—about the Aether.”

He watched her swallow hard, watched her face pale. She nodded anyway.

“Wanted to know—what did you see?”

Jane looked around—they were alone now. She sat down. “You saw the other end of space—in New York, right?”

He nodded and sat down in his chair properly.

“….when the cameras…when they showed the portal—I…I thought I was gonna be sick.” She looked away from him. “I found our portal in London—I’m sure you’ve read the file.”

“Yeah. You were gone for six hours.”

“Yeah…the place I went….it was a desolate wasteland. It was…like what I imagine the surface of an asteroid would be like. Bitter cold and dark.” She looked at the table. “Except for the…stone. This big cube. It was glowing red. And I…went up to it…I felt like—something was putting thumbscrews inside my head.” She picked up her coffee cup. “I saw _things_ \--flashes. I didn’t know what they were at the time. But now I know—I saw the Tesseract, the staff that Loki carried—and other items. They must all be Infinity Stones. When I went back to London—and when that cop tried to touch me—I felt this swell of…rage and blood and hate. It hurt—every muscle seizing at once—and the red was like…pure….intent. Malice. Every time it happened, I saw flickers, flashes of other places—I still don’t know what most of them meant. ”

“Couldn’t Thor tell you?”

“I don’t like to talk about it. The Aether got his mother killed. I watched her die. I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t.”

Tony’s eyes flickered, crossing his arms. “Felt helpless, yeah?”

She nodded, lips thinning. “I’m not a soldier or a spy. I’m…a scientist. I’m…not like Natasha. I’m just a scientist.”

“Doctor Banner’s a scientist. Selvig is a scientist.”

Jane shook her head. “I know. And Banner can turn into the Hulk to protect and to fight. And poor Erik…he’s so damaged from what Loki did to him. Like your friend, Barton—it’s less obvious with Barton. But I see it sometimes—the way his eyes hollow out. Erik’s do that. Erik can barely keep himself together. At least I didn’t have Loki in my head, pulling me out and trying to force something else back in.”

“But that’s what the Aether did.”

Her eyes met his. “Yes. Those moments when I hurt others, it was protecting itself. Thor said by the time we were leaving Asgard—I was delirious. My eyes turned black. Like I was having a fit. Too much energy—pure energy. When Maleketh removed the Aether—it was like being turned inside out. I remember…being sure that I was going to die. I remember Loki protecting me. But everything else is a blur. I just remember that feeling—of terror.”

“You still wake up with that sometimes.”

“Yes. Darcy says I talk in my sleep about it. Have nightmares.” She looked out the window to the balcony, where Thor had gone. The imprint of the Bifrost was still glowing faintly.

“I—do the same, you know.” Tony shrugged, nonchalant. “Banner said I should ask, you know. Figure there’s always a way out, right? Until there isn’t.”

“You went right into that portal.”

“Yeah—haha, to this day—the most beautiful and most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Then my suit failed, you know.” He frowned, looking to the side. “Thought I was seriously gonna eat it that time.”

“Doctor Banner saved you, right?”

He chuckled. “A big, angry, mean, green guardian angel.”

“I suppose you and Doctor Banner—and myself—we’re different. The others all have combat training. They are…more prepared for this, I think, than we were—than we are.”

Tony nodded a little. “Jarvis looks after me—and Pepper too.”

Jane smiled gently.

“And Doctor Banner, all right, geez, twist my arm.”

“I have….” Something in her hesitated, “I have Darcy and Erik…and Thor.” She looked down.

“You ever, uh—talked about this with Darcy?”

Jane frowned. “….no. She was freaked out too. Didn’t feel it was right. And Erik—well, he has enough going on. He hasn’t stopped hearing voices. And Thor…his mother was killed because of the Aether…I can’t…”

Tony frowned deeper. And then he huffed, “Well, good thing you decided to stop in here. Jarvis is always around, Doctor Foster.” He stood up. “And I appreciate your work enough—hell, Pepper could always use another lady around. And well, I guess you can join our little science club. Me and Bruce—we have our own hashtag and everything.”

Jane broke into a smile. “Thank you, Mister Stark.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well. Keep you company when Thor is running around doing whatever the hell it is that he does. Besides, you were useful with Other Jane’s arm. She might look like she wants to kill you—but she appreciated it.”

Jane nodded. “Thank you….Tony.” She stood. “Well, I—I think I’ll go to bed.”

Tony watched her walk out, fingers curled in the hems of her shirt sleeves. Poor kid.

He went to see Pepper.

She was waiting in bed, propped up on a pillow. “Everything all right?”

Tony went right to her. “I like you a lot, you know. Love and stuff.” He kissed her, cutting off her curious look.

 

 

The eyes were boring into him.

Those smoke-blue eyes, staring. Cold, calculating—she lifted her metal hand from the roadway and shook it out. She stared at them. Beckoning with those eyes.

_To Death._

Steve stared back, locking that gaze—until Natasha grabbed his head and jerked it to avoid a bullet. Those eyes kept still. Even when Sam was shoved forward. She simply jumped on top of the car. She just—

Steve’s eyes opened, shuddering. He swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling. He was sheened in sweat. He looked over. Those eyes were staring—

“Steve,” Janie said softly. She sat up. “Steve?” She touched his face.

Steve stared at her. “God…you’re alive…” He smiled, but it was sad. “You’re…this is how Peg must have felt seeing me again. And you. She cried—and—but she has Alzheimer's, you know. She would have these moments…we’d be talking and then all of sudden…” he shook his head. “….all of a sudden it was, like…I had just walked in. That first time after they found me. And she…” he swallowed. “…she tears up every time. Every time she forgets and then sees me again…I hate doing it to her. I feel like a monster. Make her go through it over and over. She’s all I had left of…that life. My second chance. Everyone else is gone. I know I haven’t been fair to you. I know I can’t have Janie back—the Janie I knew. Just like I’m not the same Steve I was seventy years ago. Every time I wake up in the morning…it feels like it’s all a dream.” He looked down and took a breath. “But…you’re still here.” He looked at her and smiled gently. “You’re not a dream.”

Janie reached out, touched his face. “Yeah.” She pulled him to her shoulder. “I remember bits and pieces—so far. She’s…your Janie…she’s…she seems so….dynamic. I can’t be her again. We can only be what we are now. But I’ll still watch your back.”

His arms wrapped around her. His big shoulders heaved a breath. “You were a helluva sniper.”

“I still am.” She laughed brokenly into his hair.

“I know.” He looked up and grinned at her. “Except on the helicarrier. I think you missed on purpose.”

“I did. I was so conflicted and confused. I kept having these flashes—I kept seeing you when you were small. But I didn’t understand. You were the only one who knew me. And I couldn’t understand.”

“I knew you’d know me. And I knew you’d remember. Even on the road—you hesitated after Sam hit you. Something was there. Sam said I might not get the chance to save you—but I knew you’d remember.”

“Don’t you sweet talk me, Rogers.” She smiled. A full, real smile and leaned in to kiss him.

 

 

Tony spun in one of his lab chairs. “Bruce.”

Bruce moved a dial forward on the hologram screen. “What.”

“I keep telling you. Strut, big man. In this body armor.”

“I am strutting to the best of my ability. With no body armor.”

Tony threw a pencil at him.

Bruce batted it from the air. “Knock it off, Tony."

Tony wheeled over. “Let me make you an expanding body armor.”

“I don’t like being constricted. It’s even worse as the other guy.”

“You’ll still be able to control it.”

Bruce looked over the display at him, unconvinced.

“I’ll take your measurements. Have you transform, take ‘em again.”

“The angrier I get—the more powerful he gets, Tony.”

“So it’ll expand a lot.”

“I told you, Tony. It’s like a nerve. It’s a bad idea. He’ll rip through it. It’s a waste.”

“You’re not a waste.”

“Just leave it alone, Tony.”

"Why are you so wound up about this?"

"Just stop. Stop."

Tony’s eyes narrowed in on his, examining his face, taking in the lines, the defensiveness. He got closer. “You think I can’t help you? Think you’re the only one who can do science or something? I’ll make you the damn body armor—we’ll fix it up for you with the Soul Forge technology—create a holonet and—“

Bruce slammed the display away from him, ripping off his glasses and smashing them down into the counter. “Leave me alone!”

He found Tony right in his face. “No. As long as I’m around, buddy—you’re never gonna be alone.”

Bruce blinked, stared at him.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Let me try, at least.”

Something in Bruce’s eyes flickered.

“You don’t understand it, do you?” Tony said quietly. “You don’t understand, even after all this time. How any of us could seriously look at you as a companion, an ally, a friend. You expect to die every time you Hulk out. You think creating something especially for you is a waste of time. Because then it’s like admitting that you’re gonna live. Admitting that you might be a little bit attached to us, yeah? And allowing us to get attached to you. Well, it’s too late, pal. You’re the only one around here who speaks my language. So you ain’t gonna be alone anymore.”

Bruce’s eyes settled, looked down. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“I’ll build it. You test it while I’m in surgery and while I’m recovering. Foster can help you. Science siblings or whatever.”

Bruce found enough of his voice to say, “You’re really afraid of this surgery, aren’t you?”

Tony’s mouth twitched. “No more than you’re afraid of the Big Guy hurting one of us.”

"I--"

"He saved your life. And I think maybe you're beginning to realize why. But you're afraid to accept it."

"Tony--"

The door opened and Steve entered. Janie trailed behind him. “Thought we should come by—Janie knows some coordinates to other Hydra bases. Thought maybe we should get them plotted before you go in for surgery.”

Tony clapped his hands. “Excellent. Let’s do it.” He spun away from Bruce and reached into the air. “Jarvis, plotting map, please.”

It appeared before him. “All right, fire away.”

Janie walked up to the map. She rattled off memorized coordinates and Jarvis plotted them.

Beatrice, Nebraska.

South Bend, Washington State.

Manzanillo, Mexico.

Montreal, Canada.

Lima, Peru

Zaragoza, Spain

Chelm, Poland

Diyarbakır, Turkey

Kaithal, India

Hanoi, Vietnam

Magadan, Russia

“These are good starting points,” Tony mused. “Looks like we got some games to play. Gotta keep you guys busy while I recover, right? Save some for me.”

“No promises,” Steve said, glaring at the map.

“Eh oh. Bruce. Might wanna stand back. The Freedom in the room is intensifying. I think—yes, I feel, somehow, patriotic. Damn.”

 

 

Three days later, Bruce frowned. Tony was doing his best not to appear agitated. But he was pacing and getting up and sitting down and couldn’t leave his reactor alone. Bruce eventually had to grab him so that Pepper could give him a hug.

“I’ll be watching,” she promised. “The whole thing. I swear.”

“We will too,” Bruce followed up.

“Yeah right,” Tony grinned at Bruce.

“Tch, gotta make sure these doctors know what they’re doing,” Jane Foster said, more shyly but smiling.

“H-hey, look at that, Foster made a joke. God, this really is my last day on earth.”

“Tony—,” Pepper started.

“It’ll be fine,” Tony interrupted. He kissed Pepper.

“If you do die, sorry I made fun of you,” Darcy told him, grinning.

“I’m not sorry I made fun of you,” Tony replied.

Darcy punched his arm, laughing.

Tony grabbed Bruce’s hand to shake. The doctor’s grip seemed harder than usual. Tony looked into his face. Seeing the lines, the anxiety. “Aw, Bruce. Bruce. Don’t be like that. C’mere. C’mon, it’s okay.” He hugged him. “There, see? All better!” And then he reached over and mussed Foster’s hair. “See you in sixteen hours or however long it takes them.”

The doctors led him away.

Banner pulled out his cell phone, calling Natasha. “He just went in. Are you guys suiting up?”

“Yeah, we’re getting ready to leave. Keep us posted, Bruce.” Natasha waved her hand at the others. “ _Tony just went in._ ”

Bruce smiled a little, hearing the others call insults, encouragement and jeers at the phone. He heard Natasha laugh a little. “They all say good luck.”

" _I did not! I said he should get his new Stark Plugs at Auto Zone!_ " Sam called into the phone.

“Be careful,” Bruce told her.

“Eh, it’s just Nebraska. We should be fine. I’m here, Clint’s here, Sam, Steve….and the Winter Soldier. So we’ll see.”

“ _Call her Janie."_ He heard Steve demand.

“ _Just Sergeant would be fine_."

“Okay, so all of us—plus the Wonder Twins,” Natasha said. “We’ll keep you posted. Keep calm and…don’t turn into the Hulk. Later.”

Bruce smiled and hung up.

Jane Foster was looking up at him. “They’re on their way out?”

He nodded, fidgeting with the phone, not meeting her eyes.

Darcy touched his arm. “C’mon, let’s go to the observation room. Before you explode.”

Bruce looked at her hand, her touch.

Darcy's smile was lopsided. "Don't worry. He'll be okay."


	13. Trigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission.
> 
> Darcy picks Theme Songs for everyone
> 
> Loki underestimates the humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's Song Choices:
> 
> Electric Avenue: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtPk5IUbdH0  
> Bad Bad Leroy Brown: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ooq3JbWbdjk  
> Skyrim Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7oUk9WizNc  
> I'm Too Sexy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39YUXIKrOFk  
> Superhero: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOkfQMJFwUw  
> I Won't Back Down: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2h9HPZhqHE  
> I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbNlMtqrYS0  
> These Boots Are Made For Walking: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2hR-rOukbU  
> Time After Time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PqhOrgk11A  
> Maneater: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRYFKcMa_Ek  
> Killer Queen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSQwI3rDETk  
> Bad Moon Rising: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YlTUDnsWMo  
> Original Sin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhLHrsML3QQ  
> Filthy Mind: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLUs3kc_rC8  
> Freak: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nqzDh2mSEck
> 
>  
> 
> List your own--for serious or joking--if you want! :D

Beatrice, Nebraska was a small agricultural community. They couldn’t just land a jet in the middle of it and so went to Lincoln and drove the rest of the way in a van. The men were sitting in the back. Natasha drove and Janie sat in the passenger side.

“Any of this look familiar?” Sam asked.

“Nope. I’ve never been here—that I remember.”

Clint made a face in the rearview mirror. Natasha suppressed a smile.

Janie kept watching the road.

“I don’t suppose you know what we’re in for at one of these bases?” Steve asked quietly, leaning forward on the bench seat.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I was only ever to use the coordinates if something happened on a mission and I couldn’t return to the designated base.”

Clint met Sam’s eyes, then Steve’s. “If they know that she’s in our custody—“

“Everyone knows it now—but they won’t know how much she’s remembered. Or that she would even come with us.” Sam mused, looking out the window. “Hey, Winter—maybe you should stay in the van.”

Janie’s eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, and then looked away.

“She won’t stay here and let us go in,” Steve said. “She couldn’t even do that when she had no training at all. She used to follow the combat units into fire fights. Used to make the Colonel so angry.” He smiled a little, fond.

Natasha slowed the van to a crawl. “This place is tiny. Any idea where exactly we should look? The coordinates gave us the city—not a lot else.”

“Cemetery,” Janie replied, not missing a beat. “A lot of Hydra bases are underground. Especially fallback bases like this. This place is so small—it’s either in the cemetery or under something like a bank or a school.”

“Like the Vault lab in DC,” Sam asked.

“Yes. It wasn’t destroyed because it was under a bank in a vault encased in concrete and steel. It was safe.”

Natasha pulled in to the local cemetery. “Should we…check the mausoleum?”

“I’m not sure,” Janie admitted. “I think…I’ll know when I find it. An entrance or…whatever it was that the Winter Soldier would be looking for.”

It was a strange-looking procession that piled out of the van. Steve’s uniform, being the most ostentatious, had to be covered with a long coat. Janie had procured her Hydra-issue gear from somewhere just before they’d left. Even though Steve had offered to get her something new—she refused. The body armor was Hydra issue—but it was good quality and she was accustomed to it. She pulled on a leather jacket and zipped it all the way up to hide her arm.

“Sunset is about an hour off,” Clint said, pushing on some sunglasses.

“Kids have started school—no one should be poking around at this time of evening,” Steve muttered.

“Sometimes it’s weird to think that outside of us, normal things are still happening. You know I saw a commercial for Alien Insurance yesterday,” Sam informed them. “And then, oh yeah—kids are going to school, people go to work. Everyone just trying to get by.”

“There was a mass influx out of major cities,” Clint added. “After New York and again after London—they’re seeing people leave big cities in droves. Moving back out to the smaller towns.”

They piled out of the van. Natasha led the way in a lovely red peacoat. Janie looked at the tombstones. Nothing caught her eye. The tiny mausoleum was locked. Janie crushed the knob with her metal hand and stepped inside. It smelled like moth balls.

But it was empty.

That is, until Clint noticed the back wall plaque. “Hey. What’s that?”

Natasha was closest. She shrugged, shining her phone on it. “Looks like a memorial plaque—thanking the benefactors. Listed names as Arlene Robert and PJ Lohmer.”

Janie went to it, urging Natasha out of the way. She knew what to do, quite suddenly. Jane touched it with her right hand. It made no sound, shed no light—but it clicked and opened. Janie jerked the cover off and looked at it. “Fingerprint reader.”

“ _Voice accepted. Please input mission call number and current date_.”

Janie looked at the device and pushed on the dials. “Five September, 2014—Washington DC, RCAS65894FA.”

The panel did not speak again but flashed up: _Input days out of Cryo-Stasis._

Janie hesitated and then put in: _258_

Something flickered across the screen.

Janie became very still.

Clint’s eyes narrowed and he opened the mausoleum door so he’d have more room. Sam backed out at well.

“Jane?” Steve asked.

She turned back around. “It’s under the city courthouse.” She headed out, something stiffened in her walk.

Steve looked at the panel, but it was blank.

Janie’s cropped hair was shaggy around her chin. She wouldn’t let anyone cut it. Steve had suggested a short ponytail but she liked the hair covering her face. It was comforting. She started the van herself.

“Jane…everything okay?” Steve asked.

She nodded, eyes burning at the road.

On the passenger side, Natasha was eyeing her. She could feel the Russian’s gaze boring into her head like screws. Jane wanted to tell them. A little bit, anyway—but couldn’t seem to get it out. Of course, it was impossible to fight all the layers of _(control)_ trigger-words. She knew there were some but of course, she didn’t know what they were. And she wouldn’t know them until she saw them and by then it would be too late.

Clint watched her, his hawk’s eye on her. Sam studied his expression and then looked back at Jane.

She was holding on savagely to the faces in the van. Steve. Natasha. Sam. Clint.

Over and over and over, she repeated them to herself. On the very edge of her consciousness, she replayed their names, their faces, struggling as the conditioning tore away chunks and pieces. Like a starving man with a pie, hunks ripped out with a dull spoon, spilling red cherries all over his hands.

_Steve. Natasha. Sam. Clint._

She pulled in to the city hall parking lot. By this time, darkness had descended. The streets were deserted. She looked at her left hand.

_Steve. Natasha. Sam. Clint._

Natasha took off the peacoat. She glanced over the seat, exchanging a look with Clint. The archer nodded, exiting out the van’s back door.

Steve watched too, looked at Natasha and then at Jane. “Janie. Janie?” Her eyes flicked up, he caught them in the rearview mirror. “Janie.”

She looked away and got out of the van. _Rogers. Romanov. Wilson. Barton._

Sam kept close to Steve’s left.

Janie did not stop outside the vehicle. She headed right around the building to a back entrance. The door was secured with a simple turning lock and a small push handle. Janie grabbed onto the push bar and ripped the entire door out of the frame.

No alarms sounded. After all, they were expected.

Clint drew his bow, notching one arrow to the string. He did not draw, merely kept it pointed at the ground. “Conditioning?” He murmured to Natasha.

She nodded. “Something on the display. Makes sense. They’d have to make sure they could still control her if she came back from a botched mission.”

Steve followed behind the Winter Soldier, watching her closely.

She walked through the hall lobby. She seemed confident. She walked right down the hall, turned left and opened up a conference room. Attached to it was a small janitor’s closet. She ripped the door open, walked in and looked at the shelving units to the right. Her metal fist closed around them. Metal shrieked as it was wrenched apart. She threw it aside.

“Janie,” Steve tried, reaching out, grabbing her right arm. “Jane.”

She looked up at him, something flickering across her face. _Captain America. Black Widow. Falcon. Hawkeye._

She pulled away and looked at the cleared wall. She touched the concrete. “Here,” she said. Forcing her metal fingers in the seam, she braced her feet and pulled the wall apart. It separated into two panels. In front of them was some kind of screen.

“It’s an ocular scanner,” Clint told them.

Janie leaned in front of it. A small beam of light cascaded over her face.

 _"Scan Accepted."_ It beeped at her. _"Standby for collection."_

“Sarge—we can handle this. You should go back to the van,” Sam suggested, thumbing the safety off his handgun.

Jane didn’t move. Her body seemed to ripple with the tiniest tremor.

The screen sunk into the wall and then the whole panel moved. Everyone else ducked to the sides so only Jane would be visible. Steve stood closest to her, still in her peripheral line of sight. He saw her eyes twitch, something flickering across her face.

A gun appeared first, pointed at her. An armed guard, encased in body armor, waved her forward with his weapon. His cheek turned and he spoke into the radio on his shoulder. “It’s the Asset. Still has her Hydra gear. She is armed.” He nodded at the rasping static that responded and ordered, “Strip down, remove your weapons.”

Janie raised her hands—and then moved. And she moved like lightning, terrible and fast. She grabbed the gun, yanked the guard forward and smashed his skull into her knee. He fell to the floor and her boot came down through his face. Teeth scattered like spilled rice and she grabbed his gun. She was firing off two more shots—made it five steps inside—and something flashed up on the concrete wall.

Steve barely caught the words: _LOHMER. ROBERT._ In huge print, projected onto the back wall.

Lohmer, of course—the name of the commander of the prison that Steve himself had liberated her from. The name of one of the benefactors of the cemetery. And Robert—her younger brother’s name—also used on the plaque. Lohmer and Robert were the triggers—they must have started the second she either heard Natasha say the names or read them herself.

Now, she stood still as a statue, as if frozen. Her eyes took in the names again. Lohmer. Lohmer. She knew that name from somewhere. It always gave her this weak feeling in her knees, a strange weariness. The urge to stop, to be still, to not resist. The other name—Robert—was like a steel trap, closing on all sides, reinforcing the word paired with it.

The others were coming in behind her. One of Clint’s shafts hit the back wall—it exploded.

_Mission directive. Traitor. Obstacle. Assassin._

Steve burst forward, his shield spinning out like a discus.

Her body couldn’t seem to decide what to do. Remove her weapons, remove her body armor and wait—kill the Captain and his friends—or shoot the Hydra agents. She stood very still, listening to the chaos erupting around her. Watching Widow spider her way off a wall, jump on someone’s shoulders and snap his neck. Watched Sam point his handgun, taking pot shots efficiently, effectively—not a wasted bullet. And then Hawkeye, more careful in such close quarters; he used his bow like a staff if they got too close. And Cap— _Steve_ —Steve had the shield. Her head was spinning.

By chance, a Hydra goon grabbed her first—hauling her towards the far door. She walked with him initially, docile—before looking back.

Steve bashed in someone’s head and looked over. His eyes met hers, widened, and his whole face changed. “No! Janie!”

Someone came up behind him.

 _Compromised_ flashed through her head, gnawing at her brain. She raised her gun automatically, fired. The man dropped like a stone.

The goon who had her jerked on her arm, shoved her towards the far door.

And then she was pivoting on her heel, a smooth arc of shining metal. Her fingers latched into his face mask. She flung it off. And then her fingers latched into his flesh. She felt his bones crunch under the metal hand. His eye sockets collapsed, white jelly slimed her fingers. She felt them meet somewhere in the middle of his skull. She flung it down and looked at her metal hand. Soaked in blood and bits of brain matter, covered in fractures of bone.

She grabbed the door and wrenched the whole thing off its hinges. There was a lab beyond. She vaulted over the railing, her boots crunched into the concrete floor. The Chair was there in the middle of a circle of grating _(where her blood, sweat, tears drained during prep)_.

She froze when she saw it.

Sam was second into the lab. He barreled in, slamming into the nearest lab-coated doctor.

_Obstacle…_

Black Widow slid in third, running around the scattering scientists, taking out two before heading for the computer consoles.

_Traitor._

Steve bashed down part of the wall and he and Clint entered together. Steve watched Jane approach the Chair, sliding her fingers over the metal like a long lost pet. Her expression was difficult to interpret. Helpless to the compulsion, perhaps, but also loathing, revulsion.

Clint threw his bow down, drawing two knives. “Steve—!“ He was quick to dispatch two guards. Attacked another who was about to jump at Steve’s back.

Rogers jerked. “S-sorry,” he said quickly. He had to focus, swinging his shield. It was hot from blood and friction.

Jane stepped away from the chair to the console which controlled it. She pressed some buttons, seeming to be looking for something.

“Jane! What are you doing?” Steve yelled over to her.

“Dammit, Steve!” Clint snapped again, knives flashing as he dodged behind Steve. A bullet tore through Clint’s body armor. A haze of red mist glazed the concrete. Steve startled, raising his shield again and smashing it into the thug.

And then another guard slammed passed Sam. She swung her rifle like a bat, clobbering Jane in the head.

Steve jerked, took off, throwing himself beyond the railing into the grated circle where the Chair sat. He pummeled the guard and threw the body aside. “Janie!”

“Oh shit,” Sam started. “Hey—Clint—yo, man. You okay?”

Clint had paled, gritting his teeth. “M’good, sorta. Might need a doctor.” He grabbed into the railing and Sam was quick to stoop, putting an arm under him.

Natasha pulled out her flashdrive. “What happened!”

“He’s shot,” Sam reported. “Where—in your hip, man? In the hip—probably should get out of here. We done?”

“Data taken, goons dead, scientists dead,” Natasha informed him. She glanced at Steve and then back at Clint.

Clint’s mouth was a tight line. He nodded a hair.

_Compromised._

“There’s no SHIELD for clean-up anymore. So.” Natasha pulled out a lighter.

“Steve, you comin or what!” Sam demanded.

Steve looked back at them. “Wh-what?” And then started. “Clint—were you shot?”

Clint rolled his eyes, scowling. “Can I just get out of here, please?”

Sam nodded and headed for the exit.

Steve instantly felt guilt, shame, looking down at his boots. Then over at Janie. How had he gotten so sidetracked? She could take care of herself. They had long discussed what they would do if they hit these triggers.

“Steve.”

He looked up, meeting Natasha’s hard eyes.

She was shaking her head. “You can’t lead a mission like this. I thought it was her we’d have to worry about…but seems like maybe we gotta worry more about you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t realize. Clint—he must have been shot when I got distracted. I…”

“You're compromised,” Natasha supplied. “He took a bullet for you. We can’t go on missions like this—you have to be able to focus.”

“I will, I will,” he promised. “I just—“

“I know—you’re scared. You’re protective. I get it. But she can look after herself and it’s unlikely that Hydra will hurt her. And even if they did—she heals like you.”

“But the triggers—I was afraid she’d—“

“She was fighting it as soon as it started,” Natasha interrupted. “She doesn’t need kid gloves, Steve. Now, let’s go.” She tossed the lighter and headed out.

Steve looked at Jane.

Her eyes were open, centered somewhere on the center wall. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t—“

Jane stood up. “No. I see now what she and Hawkeye were afraid of.” She outstretched her arm. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

Her eyes lingered on her arm. Having Jarvis there was so strange. She fired, blasting at computers and consoles. “Let’s go…” She turned and walked out.

Steve put the shield on his back and he followed.

 

 

“Okay, so for Thor—the obvious choice is _Electric Avenue_ —but that’s obviously why I’m not going to pick that one. It’s _too_ obvious,” Darcy told them. “I think the best song for Thor would be…” she scrolled through her phone. “How about _Bad, Bad Leroy Brown_?”

“No. He gets beat up at the end of that song!” Jane objected. “And Thor isn’t like that anymore. He learned real humility.”

“Yeah right, he knew what his big muscles did to your lady bits. Let me tell you, Bruce, she has never been so showered and wearing pretty clothes more than when Thor came back.”

“ _Darcy!_ ”

Bruce was sitting on Darcy’s left. He put his hands over his ears, making Darcy burst out laughing.

“Oh, oh! What about the theme to Skyrim! That game is all about Viking warrior types just like Thor!”

“Let’s stop talking about Thor. Pick a song for—I dunno—Captain Rogers.”

“Oh, there’s so many. _I’m Too Sexy_ \--“

“Darcy.” There was a clipped warning in Jane’s tone.

“All right, all right. I mean—clearly the perfect one is---“ She scrolled through and pressed Play. “ _Superhero_ by Tim McMorris. C’mon, wants so bad to be a hero and save the world. C’mon, it’s perfect! Or maybe _I Won’t Back Down_ by Tom Petty. Oh! Oh! And his BFF-maybe going steady-weird relationship with Other Jane—totally is gonna be _500 Miles_. You know? I would walk five hundred miles—“

“We know the song, Darcy.”

“And Pepper—yours can be _These Boots Were Made For Walking_.”

Pepper was chewing on her fingernails. She gave them a distracted look and then tried a smile.

“Hahaha, Other Jane’s can be _Time After Time_.”

“That is mean, Darcy,” Bruce said, unable to help the laugh that bubbled out.

“Please don’t tell her I said that.”

“Pick a theme song for Natasha then.”

“Tch, please, I am _pro_ at this,” Darcy informed him, sliding her finger down. “The obvious choice is _Maneater_ by Hall and Oates.” And then, “Oh, OH! No, _Killer Queen_ by Queen. That’s perfect!”

Pepper was sitting on Bruce’s left side. She finally pulled her chair a little closer to their half-circle. “A-all right. Um. How about, um—Loki?”

Darcy opened her mouth, then closed it. “Hmmm, that’s a tough one.” She scrolled through her music list.

Bruce fidgeted with his thumbs. His eyes stayed on the glass. Through it, two surgeons were scalpel deep inside of Tony’s chest. He had not looked away for many, many minutes.

Pepper reached over and gently touched his wrist. Bruce glanced at her, trying out a little smile and squeezed her hand and she took a steadying breath, nodding to herself. She looked back at the glass with him, putting her hands in her lap again.

“Oh!” Darcy exclaimed. “ _Bad Moon Rising_ by CCR! Cause you know—he’s not exactly a bad guy. Maybe. Sort of. His intentions are vague.”

“I didn’t know you were into such old music,” Jane said.

“It’s not _that_ old,” Bruce said, grinning a little, exchanging a look with Pepper.

“Not all old music. For example,” Darcy said primly, as if teaching a class, “For Sam Wilson-- _Original Sin_ by Phixx. He is _cute_. And then Barton can have _Filthy Mind._ ”

“What about Doctor Banner?” Jane smiled.

“How about _I Can Be a Freak_?”

Bruce raised his eyebrow at her, smiling. “You really are mean. I'm beginning to see why Tony likes you two so much.”

Jane blinked. "He does?"

Darcy cackled.

The instrument’s beeping silenced the four of them. Instantly, Pepper and Bruce were up to the glass, looking inside the operating room. Jane and Darcy stood slower.

“What’s going on?” Pepper demanded.

“It’s all right—I think his blood pressure just dipped.”

The doctors looked at them. The machines went quiet. Pepper wrung her fingers together. “Jarvis, have someone bring me Bloody Mary, please. Bruce, do you want anything?”

Bruce shook his head quickly, swinging around to gesture to the other younger women.

“Can I have a Long Island?” Darcy requested. “Oh, with Blue Curacao instead of Coke—it tastes like candy if you do that.”

“Just, um, orange pop…please,” Jane said slowly.

Someone brought it. Bruce put a gentle, large hand on Pepper’s back and urged her to sit with her Bloody Mary. She gnawed on the chunk of beef jerky that had come as the garnish.

“What are you, nine years old?” Darcy asked, watching Jane sip at the can of orange soda pop.

“Shut up, Darcy.”

“Have I told you how good you smell today?”

“Shut up, Darcy.”

Bruce kept his attention on Pepper. She eventually relaxed into his palm and leaned on him a little. Four hours later, the doctors signaled to them. Bruce stood, putting his palm on Pepper’s back again. Jane and Darcy stirred from dozing and got up. But by the time they were standing, Pepper and Bruce were already disappearing into the next room to meet with the lead surgeon.

Pepper refused to leave and was taken to the ICU to sit by Tony’s bed as he rested, still unconscious. Bruce brought her a blanket and then decided to go back to Stark Tower. A body guard would stay outside the private room and call if anything came up.

Darcy and Jane came back with him.

“Hey, so—“ Darcy started, “—wanna stay up with us, Brucie—play some cards—“

“No,” Bruce said, cutting her off. “I mean—I’m sorry. I—no, thank you. Not tonight. He turned a little awkwardly, walking away and scratching his hair.

Darcy looked at Jane. “I blew it, huh?”

Jane tried a sympathetic look. “….maybe. You like people, Darcy. He doesn’t. I mean—he does—but…you know.”

Darcy nodded a little and sighed. “He’s like you. His work. His condition.”

Jane nodded a little. “He was—though—I mean—tonight was stressful for him and Pepper. Don’t worry about it. C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

 

The next day, Bruce went back to the hospital. Rhodey was there, waiting as well. That night, Tony awoke.

“Pep?” he murmured blearily.

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “It was touch and go there for a little bit, you bastard.”

Tony smiled a little. He winked one eye. “Keep you on your toes.”

“They saved the shrapnel…just like you asked.”

“Oh, good.” He smiled wider. “Save it for me, Pep. Gonna…gonna make something out of it.”

“Okay, okay—I will. Just relax. Just rest.”

 

 

Loki staggered onto the balcony of the Tower. The lights were dimmed and so he allowed himself the moment to fall to his knees. He panted, touching the side of his head.

Well, that explained why the siblings were locked up. Those humans had certainly learned quickly how to use that Scepter. And there had been no hesitation in them using it on him as soon as they saw him. And those strange guns they had—powered by the Tesseract, fascinating. He sat down on the concrete, leaning against a chest-high wall. He looked through the glass. The main sitting area was deserted. But he did not quite dare enter. He stayed out on the balcony, carefully tending to his blood-matted face. It was badly gashed and his throat was burned raw and bloody. He had underestimated those humans; hadn’t expected them to have learned to use the Scepter. He would have to be a little more careful.

His eye watered as he leaned back into the wall—it had been seared by those strange guns. At least no one would bother him out here. Accept the pain and let the body heal.

The moon blurred above him and he descended into the darkness.


	14. The Hydra Den of Nebraska

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a deleted scene from Thor, where Thor uses a healing stone to save Erik Selvig: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abjV9rDySlQ
> 
> Another deleted Thor scene: extended conversation between Loki and Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three--about their plotting to go to Jodunheim and Loki's surprise at Thor asking him to go (also, shows Loki telling one of the guards where they're going): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NO5cPeFKdAQ 
> 
> The idea of Loki being influenced/controlled by the Other in the Avengers, actually came from the comment section in this deleted scene from the Avengers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9m3NpkeTOmk
> 
> Another deleted scene in the Avengers--conversation between Loki, Barton and Dr Selvig where Loki learns of the Team: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzndNZAB1UI

Space was so cold. It had never occurred to Loki how cold Space was. Traveling through the Bifrost, one moved too fast to really register it. But when Thor threw him and he fell _(wrong)_ \--he had been sure that this was finally the _blessed_ end.

But somehow, it had not been. He’d ended up finding the Other. Like a goblin made of melting wax, Loki stared at the Other for a long few seconds and then jumped up.

“You were unconscious, Asgardian.”

Loki looked up, hair sticking to his forehead. Above, a multitude of stars and galaxies, a high platform where someone else was sitting. He touched his head. Everything felt fuzzy.

“You were thrown from the Bifrost, were you not?”

_(No.)_

Loki stared at the Other for a long moment. “Yes. By my foolish brother and traitorous father.”

“You refer to the Allfather and Thor, King and the Crown Prince of Asgard.”

“I was King of Asgard. I am Loki.”

Those eyes were burning. Loki wasn’t sure what he felt. Something strange, saturating. Something was…odd here. Nothing here seemed right.

And then something touched his chest. His leather body armor, green robes—a penetrating cold, something seeping inside and spreading.

 _Yes_ , it murmured. Whispered. Breathed into his ear. _Yes._

“He is strong,” said the Other.

“We don’t need full control,” the huge man on the platform rumbled. “Earth is weak.”

Loki knew he didn’t black out. He didn’t fall. He wasn’t ill. And yet, it still seemed as though he had lost time. Something was off. He didn’t remember this Other telling him they were searching for the Tesseract and yet he knew he’d told the Other—confirmed the Other’s question, actually—that he knew Earth. Of course he did. He was raised as a Prince of Asgard. He knew of Earth.

But the idea was interesting—this Other could send him back to his side of the Universe. They’d give him an army, he’d take the Tesseract from Earth. The strange Scepter from the huge man-- _Thanos_ \--could connect to the Tesseract. Loki need only find it for them, nudge the humans into using it.

_What do I care about one mortal world—_

But such thoughts were quickly silenced. Loki couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone. He saw himself, reflected in their stars. He looked gaunter. His eyes were red-rimmed.

Something was…

But then he remembered Doctor Selvig—and it was easy to slip inside, influence and observe. Watch the Doctor build the module that held the Tesseract. And then use the Scepter to go to it.

It….it _was_ his idea, wasn’t it? Go to Earth, rule them as a benevolent God. Knowing that Thor had professed now to protect this planet—knowing that of course, Thor would make his way to Earth to stop him-- _why would I do that?_

The moments of clarity were few—the rest of the time, he was focused. The plan, the Tesseract, the humans. Butcher the humans. All of them, combatants and civilians alike. Benevolent God.

_Selvig will build in a fail-safe._

Did Loki suggest that to Selvig? Or did the Doctor have his own moments of clarity and decide for himself?

_Benevolent God._

Kill them all. Mow them down.

Loki bowed his head.

Thor had grabbed him, that earnest fool. They could end this. Together.

_No. I cannot._

“It’s too late. It’s…it’s too late…” He stared at Thor. Staggered away after he stabbed him. His brother would never die from such a paltry wound. His head was aching. Humming with some internal vibration that he couldn’t shake. Like someone was inside.

And yet, after the Hulk beat him into the floor…clarity again. He didn’t even go get the Scepter. That thing was cursed. If only he had known then what he suspected now.

It was a relief to be taken back to Asgard. And the Tesseract went with them. He didn’t mind facing Justice there. Give him up for the ax; that was fine.

Frigga had come to him as soon as he was secured in a cell. She tended to him personally. She touched his cuts and scrapes like she had when he was a child. When Thor would beat him, when Thor’s friends would tease and beat him—he was a Prince of Asgard—he will be stronger for it—Odin always said.

Frigga looked into his eyes and suddenly shifted—her palm on his temple—the humming, the scraping, the ache went away. Clarity returned completely.

And yet, he could not recall what hadn’t been clear. He remembered everything, he was sure…

But now, he was not so certain. The Scepter was treacherous. Possibly an Infinity Stone—and if that was so….

_We don’t need full control._

_“Who controls the Would-Be King!”_

_"You're going to lose. You lack conviction."_

_Did I lack conviction? I did not believe because it wasn't my--_

 

 

 

 Loki started awake. His whole body tensed and then he silenced his gasps for breath.

The Winter Soldier was standing over him. Her smoke-blue eyes fixed on his green ones. She crouched.

Loki looked at the otherwise deserted balcony. He drew himself up, pulling into a sitting position. He must have slumped when he passed out. “Still alive, I see, Winter Soldier.”

“What happened to you?” she asked, voice flat.

“Found something interesting.” His spine touched the wall and he reached out to grab onto it.

The metal fist curled into one of the leather straps of his body armor and pulled him to his feet. Loki jerked back from her.

“I see Stark made you a new arm. Are you one of the Avengers now? How nice for you.” He smirked, sarcastic.

She half-smiled. “The others are inside. They didn’t see you yet. Thor went back to Asgard. Checking up on that Collector or whatever.”

“I see. And what have you been up to in the meantime?” Loki sounded conversational, as if it amused him. He sauntered casually after her, into the sitting room.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” Darcy asked around a mouthful of cereal.

“Wait—was he just sitting out there?” Jane Foster asked.

Clint had frozen in his chair. His eyes followed Loki, like chips of ice. His fingers brushed over his knives.

Loki shifted, shimmers twinning up his body. Instantly, his clothing returned to its undamaged state and his face and throat were whole and unblemished.

“Oh, tch, of course,” Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Oh, more illusions,” Jane Foster shrugged and went to butter her toast.

Loki smirked, glancing sidelong at the Winter Soldier, who gave him a calculating look and then went to get coffee. She brought two mugs over, putting one in front of him and then sat down by the window. Loki looked over at the Soldier, still seeming amused. He shrugged and turned to the mug to sip.

Natasha, Sam and Bruce entered. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. Bruce threw the prince barely a glance. “Well, look who’s here,” he said, but then went right to Clint. “Stand up. How are you feeling?” He put a large palm on Clint’s back to steady him.

The archer stood, a little awkwardly. “They took care of me last night.”

“It went right through your body armor?”

“Yeah—guess the guy was too close.” Clint lifted a bag onto the counter.

Bruce picked it up and opened it, pulling out Clint’s uniform. Bruce laid it on the counter and examined the bullet hole. He put on his glasses. “I’ll start working on something this afternoon. With Jane’s Soul Forge complete—I can begin examining how they create those flexible holonets. I’d like to incorporate that into everyone’s body armor.”

“How’s Tony?” Natasha asked.

“He’ll be in recovery for a while yet. But he woke up yesterday evening. Pepper is with him right now.” His eyes went up over his glasses to take in Loki. “What are you doing here?”

Loki smiled. “Don’t worry. I remember you.”

Bruce snorted softly and looked back down at the uniform.

Sam looked around. “Where’s Steve?”

“He went to see Peg,” Janie said softly.

Bruce looked at her and then nodded, then back at Loki. “Seriously though, what are you doing here?”

“I found the Scepter.”

“The one you brought here?” Natasha asked him.

Loki continued to smile. “Yes. Some humans are using it to control some…unusual children.”

“And now you’ve got it somewhere?” Clint said.

“If I did—do you really think I’d come here?”

“I don’t think any of us would be surprised by much of anything,” Bruce said, removing his glasses. “Your motives are always ambiguous.”

“Why thank you. That is truly meaningful coming from the Beast.”

Bruce chuckled. “See—he grows on you,” he said to the others.

Clint snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

Loki looked somehow pleased by this and raised his mug to sip.

“If you’re here to actually help, you can give us the location of that Scepter thing,” Jane Foster told him. “Thor will return soon and we can tell him.”

“You must always worry that he won’t come back,” Loki said, sitting back in his chair a little.

Foster’s face steeled over. “He’ll come back. Providing you don’t cause any disasters again.”

Loki laughed. “Ah, you’ve seen through me.”

“Did you actually get hurt?” Darcy asked suddenly.

Bruce, Clint and Natasha looked at Darcy.

“What!” said Darcy. “C’mon, he’s not even trying.”

Loki raised his eyebrows, still smirking. “I will take that as flattery, mortal. You will die last.” He looked at Jane. “Tell me, are there more of those doughnuts that I had last time?”

“No, there are no doughnuts.”

“We’ve got Pop-tarts. Thor loves Pop-tarts,” Natasha said, pulling the box out from behind the bread bin. “We have to hide them.” She tossed the box over.

Loki looked at them curiously. He overturned the box and watched several little packets fall out.

Sam rolled his eyes and reached across the table. He opened a packet up and shoved it back to Loki.

By the time Steve returned, Loki had polished off the whole box. The Captain’s gaze caught on the prince but as no one was panicking, he came inside without a word.

“How was Peg?” Natasha asked him.

Steve slowed, frowning. “She…there’s no change. Any word on Stark?”

“He’s awake,” Bruce told him. “Pepper is with him.”

Steve looked at Janie by the window, still sitting quietly. But then he turned back to Clint. “Barton—how are you feeling?”

“M’all right, Cap.”

“You could always ask Thor to bring back healing stones,” Loki drawled. “He’s too simple to think of it himself.”

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked him.

“Such suspicion. I have done nothing, Captain.”

Steve raised his eyebrows.

Loki just smiled. “Perhaps I am simply here to check on the mortal’s progress with the Soul Forge.”

“The Quantum Field Generator,” Jane Foster corrected, “is finished.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I assisted you, did I not?”

“That doesn’t mean anything and you know it.”

Loki laughed. “You are very quick learners—well, some of you are. It’s almost like—” He cut himself off and looked outside.

The others followed his gaze.

And then a blast of colorful light slammed onto the balcony, then vanished. Thor stood there with his hammer. As well as his four friends.

“Well,” Loki said, looking sour. “It appears that my welcome is about to be worn out.”

“You hit that about an hour ago,” Clint grumbled.

Before Thor could move, Jane Foster was up, wrenching the glass door open. Thor grabbed her up and embraced her. He kissed her forehead. “My friends—Jane Foster. Jane, you remember my friends.”

Jane looked a little shyer. She remembered them, of course. The beautiful dark-haired Lady Sif, jolly Volstagg with the laughing eyes, dashing Fandral and calm, quiet Hogun. “Yes, I…” she looked down and then sidelong. “I never got to thank you all…”

Sif smiled. “There is no need. Thor loves you. That is enough.”

“He needs a clever little mortal like you, lass,” said Volstagg.

“You certainly lasted longer with the Aether than we thought you would—he was right about you. Strong in ways unimagined,” Fandral told her.

Hogun bowed to her over his arm. “I hope you will one day return to see Asgard under happier circumstances.”

Thor beamed happily.

The group slowed when they entered.

“Loki,” Thor breathed. “Where have you been?”

“Off gallivanting,” Loki said dryly.

“What are you doing here?” Sif demanded.

Loki threw his hands up. “I have done nothing!”

“He hasn’t,” Bruce agreed. “Barnes found him out on the balcony. I guess she invited him in.”

"So, he's like a vampire? Have to invite him in over the threshold?" Darcy asked, laughing to herself. 

Thor looked back at Janie. She met Thor’s eyes and then looked away.

Fandral seemed the least concerned, going to Darcy and bowing to her. “My Lady, who am I addressing?”

Darcy giggled a little, embarrassed. “Er, Darcy.”

“I am Fandral of the Warrior’s Three. A champion of Asgard. Tell me, do you enjoy adventure?”

“Wait—Darcy Lewis?” asked Volstagg. He looked at Thor. “This was the mortal who shocked you near to death?”

“It was not near to death!” Thor objected.

Volstagg burst out laughing and bowed to Darcy. “There are many on Asgard who would enjoy meeting you, Lady Darcy. You hold the power of thunder in your hands.”

“It’s…just my taser.”

“Taser,” mused Volstagg. “That is a good name for a weapon. Are you proficient in other weapons—other distance weapons, like the bow?”

Darcy looked at the others for help. “Um, well…uh. No. But that’d be cool. He is though.” She pointed at Clint.

“Ah, another warrior! Hallo!”

“That’s Clint Barton,” Jane Foster told the four. “He goes by Hawkeye—“

“Hawkeye, a good, strong name!” Volstagg declared, clapping Clint on the back.

Clint grabbed his side, strangling off a sound.

Volstagg stopped, observing his pain.

“Did you injure him?” Fandral asked.

“He was injured in a fight,” Natasha said tersely. She pushed around Volstagg to grab Clint’s shoulder.

“Injured in battle?” Fandral said, looking excited at the prospect. “Did you write a song for him yet? Were you victorious?”

“Er, yeah, we were victorious,” Natasha said.

“But no songs?” Volstagg asked. “You must write him a song. Here.” He got into his pack and unrolled a wheel of leather. “A healing stone.”

“Ah, no—that’s all right,” Clint croaked.

“No, Barton—it will do you well,” Thor said. He came over and grabbed Clint from Natasha. “You must tell me how you came to be injured. Was the city attacked so quickly in my absence?”

“No—we found a fight,” Clint tried to pull away.

Thor wasn’t having it. He pushed the archer against the countertop and made him sit on it. “Lay back. Do not have worry, my friend.”

Hogun had lifted up Clint’s bow. “This is quite a weapon.”

“Look at the arrows,” Fandral said. “They have such an interesting design. And the quiver—no arrow will get caught together. Though it seems there are fewer than one of our quivers.”

Natasha could only watch the Asgardians manhandle Clint. Loki was openly grinning. Thor pulled Clint’s shirt up.

Sif came over to observe. “He’s not a bad-looking one,” she said. She looked approving when his wound was uncovered. “That is a good wound.”

“Where did this happen?” Thor asked.

“Nebraska,” Sam said.

“Hydra base,” Natasha added.

“That is a good name for a song,” Volstagg told them. “The Hydra Den of Nebraska.”

“Are hydra the same here?” Fandral asked. “With the serpent heads and the long fangs?”

Natasha sputtered for a moment and then, “Oh, yeah….yeah. Cut off one head and two more replace it.”

“Indeed. A mighty enemy.”

Steve was just staring at the group, looking dumbfounded.

Sam was struggling to keep his laughter silent.

Clint was being held down by Thor and Volstagg. Fandral crushed the healing stone over the wound.

Lady Sif looked over the archer, examining his body. “He is not so big—but he is strong,” she said. “We ought to have a competition to see who is the better archer. We will drink and sing.” Sif’s smile lingered over Clint’s face.

“I, uh….” Clint said and then shuddered. The healing stone did its work, sealing over the skin. He reached down and touched it. “Oh, hey, wow…”

Thor helped him sit up. “How do you feel, my friend? Better?”

“Y-yeah. Uh. Thanks.”

Jane Foster smiled, almost giddy with laughter. “So, these are our, uh, warriors. Natasha Romanov—she’s, uh….like you, Lady Sif. A Shieldmaiden. Hand-to-hand combat expert—her code name is Black Widow. Um, then Clint Barton—he’s an archer. Um, this is Bruce Banner—“

“Ah, the Hulk, yes?” Volstagg beamed. “We have heard of you, friend! You should show us your battle form!”

“Uh.”

“I have heard from Thor—it was ten feet tall and so strong that you even hurt him. And you beat Loki into the ground,” Fandral laughed.

“I would like to arm wrestle you!” Volstagg said.

“A moment—give him time, friends,” Thor calmed them, holding up a hand. “Get to know him first. His form is his secret weapon. It is a great privilege to see it outside of battle.”

The four warriors of Asgard looked impressed at this.

Jane doggedly continued. “This is Sam Wilson. Goes by Falcon. He uses a special suit to fly.”

“I should like to see it,” said Fandral. “I have always wanted to fly. Is it made of falcon feathers?”

“Um. No. Uh—special metals,” Sam said uncertainly.

“Fascinating!”

“This is Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Ah, you are the Captain. You are in charge of this group, then?” Volstagg asked. “Thor has told us much of your battles and mighty exploits. A truer friend in battle, there is not. We have heard how you protected our Thor when he fought off the creatures of the Chitauri and how you valiantly protected the people of this planet and he fought for you in return.”

Steve mouthed silently for a second and then, “Oh, well. Thank you.”

Thor had just noticed the box of Pop-tarts. He went to examine it and frowned when he found it empty.

“And that one over there by the window—that’s Sergeant Jane Barnes. The, uh…Winter Soldier—she’s a sniper.”

“The armor on your arm is very interesting,” Fandral said, leaning in a dashing sort of way against the counter. “Tell me, My Lady—where did you get it and where is the rest?”

“I only need the arm,” Janie replied.

“Tony Stark built it for her,” Thor told them, examining all the empty packets of Pop-tarts. “Her whole arm is made of metal. She lost her real arm in battle.”

“Amazing what these mortals come up with,” Volstagg said.

“Stark is their quartermaster, then?” Fandral asked.

“Yes, basically.” Thor looked around and spotted Loki. He glared at him, pointing down at the Pop-tart wrappers. Loki just smiled at him.

“But no songs?” Sif asked. “Not even for a lost arm?”

“We lost that fight,” Steve said quietly.

“But still, a hard fought battle and deserving of songs,” Fandral told him.

“Do not be so hard on yourselves,” Volstagg added. “You are only mortals. Write some songs for your battles.”

“We’ll get someone on it,” Clint mumbled.

Sam just grinned in disbelief, staring at the four warriors.

“And everyone—this is Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg—the famous Warriors Three of Asgard. And this is Lady Sif, making strides to help women who want to be warriors.” Jane gestured to her. “They’re all, uh….pretty cool. Really, uh—really good at fighting.”

“Good to meet you,” Steve said automatically. And then, “You want some breakfast?”

“Of course!” Volstagg thundered.

“You already had breakfast,” Fandral told him.

“They are offering their delightful mortal food to us. The least we can do is accept!” He looked back at Steve. “Have you any ale?”

“Um. No. But, uh—Stark has beer.”

“Wonderful!”

Hogun looked around the expansive sitting area. Fandral and Volstagg were already launching into stories for the mortals. He stood by the window, a dozen or so feet away from the Winter Soldier. She met his eyes when he glanced at her and nodded. He nodded in return.

Breakfast came as pancakes, sausages, orange juice, honey mead, eggs, biscuits and gravy and toast. Thor’s friends were happy guests . Fandral sat by Darcy so he could continue to flirt with her. Sif sat between Clint and Sam. Clint did not seem to know what to do with Lady Sif’s attention. She showed him her own bow and urged again that they should have a good-natured competition. Natasha and Steve sat with Bruce, amused.

Eventually, they even lured Hogun and Janie over.

Loki did not exactly join them but he did not run either. He sat down eventually on Janie’s right side, at the end of the table. He stayed quiet, just observing.

When Pepper arrived an hour later, she did show some surprise at not just one Asgardian—but six.

“Oh, Pepper—um, this is Lady Pepper. She is, the, uh….Lady of the house.”

Thor’s pals all jumped to their feet.

“My Lady,” Sif said, bowing to her with Hogun.

“Our sincere apologies, my lady,” Fandral declared. “We did not know you were the mistress of the house.”

“You have shown us such hospitality. Your servant, Jarvis, is better than any tavern wench,” Volstagg added.

Pepper stared at them, speechless. “I…uh…I see.”

Sam broke down into strangled giggles again. Over by the window, Janie suddenly sputtered, covering her mouth with her hand.

Pepper’s inner CEO took over. “Well, you must be friends of Thor?”

“Boy, how’d you ever guess,” Clint mumbled, making Natasha snort into her orange juice.

Thor grinned happily.

“I am Fandral, my lovely lady. And this is Lady Sif, Volstagg and Hogun.”

“I see. How good of you to come and see us. Thor has told us a great deal about you all.” 

“Has he?” Volstagg asked, looking at Thor.

Thor looked interested and curious. “I do not recall. Hmm, I may have been drinking.”

“Only the good things,” Pepper glossed it over because, in fact, he had not. Just a default compliment to break the ice. “Anyway, Thor—did you just get back?”

“Yes, I could stay from Jane no longer. And my friends have wanted to meet the warriors who protect the Earth.”

“They used some healing dust on Clint,” Natasha added. “They’re not bad guests at all.”

“Is everything all right with Stark?” Steve asked.

“Oh yes, yes,” Pepper said quickly, seeing how everyone’s faces stilled. “He’s awake and complaining. He wants to come home and recover here. But he’ll be in the hospital a few more days and then he’ll be allowed to come home.”

“Your quartermaster was severely injured then?” asked Sif.

Pepper looked uncertain on how to answer.

“Yes,” said Bruce, finally. “He was…ambushed. A bomb implanted shrapnel in his chest. He managed to keep himself alive with a device he built but he is only now getting the shrapnel removed.”

“Cowardly! Were the bastards defeated?” Volstagg asked.

“Yes,” Bruce said, sternly. “Very much so.”

“Thor, you should have told us that your friends had come to such harm! We would have brought more healing stones. Volstagg used his—and so I will offer mine to help Lord Stark.”

“Oh god,” Steve mumbled. “Please don’t call him ‘Lord’ Stark.”

“My father does not like such interference. I did not want to ask such a thing of any of you.”

“You mean you did not think of it,” Sif told him, grinning.

 

 

 

It took some convincing to get Sif and the others to put on regular mortal clothes. Loki changed first, showing them what they would need. Jane still had some of the clothes she’d gotten Thor. He pulled them on. Fandral put on some of Tony’s clothes (and looked quite good in them). Hogun was given some of Sam’s clothes. Volstagg was too big for anyone’s clothes to fit him and so he had to allow Loki to create him some. Pepper was too slender and Natasha and Janie were too short for their clothes to fit Sif and so Loki created some for her as well (with Darcy insisting on advising him). And then the warriors insisted on taking pictures, which Darcy happily obliged with her phone.

At the hospital, the four Asgardians were all eyes and ears.

“Amazing what these mortals come up with!”

“Look at that—what is that? Look, he puts coin in and it spits out some kind of food item.”

“What is this machine? Why does it beep?”

“No one here wears any robes. Seems like they’d be more comfortable if they did.”

“No skirts either, though. Easier to move, I can tell you.”

Pepper had to turn to them. “Okay—we can’t have a dozen people inside at once. Thor, um…if you could, uh…”

Thor nodded. “Fandral, with me.”

Pepper led them inside. “Rhodey, hi.”

Rhodes looked at them. “Oh. Uh. Is this…?”

“Yes. This is Thor. And this is Thor’s friend. F-Fandral, right?”

“Yes, my lady. Is this another of Earth’s warriors?”

Pepper smiled wide at Rhodey. “Yes. This is James Rhodes. He is a pilot.”

“Excellent—how wonderful.” Fandral pulled out the stone. “And this is Lord Stark?”

Rhodes eyes widened, bulging a little. “Lord Stark,” he said to Pepper.

She shrugged.

“God, don’t let him hear that.”

Thor pulled down the blanket. “Stark,” he said. “Wake up!”

Fandral leaned in. “My, now that is an extraordinary wound. What are all these tubes? How did he live?”

“Sheer determination and spite,” Rhodes answered.

“Excellent.”

Tony blinked blearily. He smiled at Pepper and then did a double-take at Thor and Fandral. “Pep…there’s a blond version of me here.”

“He’s a friend of Thor’s. He says he’s going to help you.”

Tony’s eyes slid slowly back to Pepper. “Uh. I’m not so sure I can take a beating right now.”

Fandral laughed. “It is always heartening to see a warrior in good humor. Come, friend of Thor.” He lifted the stone over Tony’s chest.

Thor reached down and peeled the bandages off.

“Whoa!” Tony yelped. “Whoa—wait a second—!”

Fandral crushed the stone, salting the dust over the cuts and holes in his chest. It could not heal this wound entirely, given the extent of the surgery. But it healed enough that it actually forced out the tubes around Tony’s heart. Thor tossed them aside. Tony grabbed his chest, feeling no holes—but heavy scabbing.

“Now, you should be able to return with us,” Thor said.

Tony looked at Pepper and then shrugged. “Okay. Thanks, pal. I owe you one.” He sat up and started removing his IV.

“A-are you sure?” Pepper asked, touching Tony’s chest to help him stand.

“That is amazing. I need one of those—what was that thing?”

“A healing stone,” Thor said, smiling.

A nurse came in, wanting to know what was going on and they wouldn’t let Tony leave until a doctor could come and confirm that he was all right.

The doctor stared at Tony for a long moment and then looked at Thor. She raised her eyebrows but was forced to admit that Tony was healed enough to leave.

“Yeah, thanks Doc,” Tony said, leaned in and kissed the doctor’s cheek and grinned, taking his shirt from Pepper and pulling it on. “I like your friend, Thor. You got more where he came from?” Tony came out into the hallway. “Whoa—I see, you’ve got the whole Rat Pack out here. I hope you brought more than one car. I’m hungry—I want a cheeseburger. Who else wants a cheeseburger?”

Volstagg looked interested. “What is a cheeseburger?”

Tony looked up at him. “Pal, I’m about to blow your mind. Let’s go!”

 

 

“So what did you learn about the Collector?” Natasha asked.

They were back at Stark Tower, eating from bags of burgers (Five Guys Burger and Fries).

Thor swallowed. “Nothing—which is the other reason I returned. They are on the other side of the universe. Loki’s sources were trustworthy but no word was had. It will take much time, I imagine, before we know anything.”

Sam was over by the stove, showing Sif, Volstagg and Fandral how to make burgers themselves. “Well, I guess for the moment then—no news is good news? Means no one has exploded part of the universe.”

“You can make them as thick as you like then. Wonderful.” Volstagg picked up a hunk of raw beef—about the size of two or three softballs. He smoothed the edges and plopped it down on the pan.

“Don’t let them set this place on fire,” Tony called over.

Bruce came over to sit with him, sliding over a glass of water. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Tony said, taking a big bite from his burger. “I think their pixie dust helped—but I feel good. They said they gave one to Barton too?”

“Yeah, Thor and the—big one, Volstagg—manhandled him into it.”

“Ha! Wish I could have seen that.”

“Jarvis could probably replay it for you.”

Tony grinned. He wiped his mouth and put his napkin down. “Oh hey, Pep told me—uh—that you stayed with her the whole time I was under.” His smile softened a little.

“Well—it was touch and go at a few points.”

“Hey—I just—you know, wanted to say thanks.”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth barely turned upward and he nodded.

Tony smiled and went back to his sandwich. And then said, loudly, “So—you all gonna tell us what happened at the Hydra base? How Birdbrain got shot and stuff?”

Natasha and Steve exchanged looks. Nat nodded and sat on the countertop so she could see everyone. She recalled the trip in painstaking detail.

When she got to the part about the names, Tony scoffed. “I warned you, Cap. It’s not a good idea to take her on these trips yet. We don’t know what other words there are.” He tossed his napkin down. “Jarvis, download the memory files from Janie Wonder’s arm. Give me something to work with.”

Natasha went on, finishing out with Clint getting shot and them leaving.

“What about that Scepter?” Clint asked. “It’s used to get into the mind, right? Loki over there said he found it.”

“What!” Thor exclaimed, straightening up. “When did you find it?”

Loki looked mock-surprised at being addressed. “A few days back. Do not worry. I have it not. The humans who have it have grown quite effective at using it as a weapon. The blasts are similar to Odin’s staff. But they are also using it to control two others.

“Who?” Steve asked.

“A boy and a girl. The boy is succumbing to madness, trapped in a tiny cell. His movements are so fast that they blur. The girl is less so but her power is fascinating. She controls probability.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sam asked.

“In other words, if something has a fifty-fifty chance of happening—she can influence and control which outcome prevails.”

“So she’d make a good gambler,” Clint said.

“Or control the outcome of a war. Or change a nuclear weapon from safe to faulty,” Steve said. “Wipe out half a city—by controlling…chance.”

“What are their names?” Natasha asked.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.”

Thor eyed Loki. “And what happened while you were there? You found them and then left them?”

“The mortals had the Scepter. This may surprise you, brother, but I do not desire that Scepter.”

“That does surprise me.”

“Then you know me not as well as you think.”

“Who would want to?” asked Sif.

Loki smiled. “The Scepter is both a stabbing and blasting weapon though its prime function is that of control.”

“Where is the Scepter?” Steve asked, throwing a warning look at Thor.

“Poland, I believe, is the name they use for the country.”

“Can you not give us more than that?” Thor demanded.

Loki looked down, as if considering. “I’ve no head for names. So sorry.”

Thor scowled at him.

“Warsaw is the obvious choice. We can start looking into it once Stark is healed up,” Clint said. “Sounds like this place will take everyone. Maybe we can get those kids too. Before they use them to kill people.”

 

Tony smoothed out his napkin, drawing some doodles with an ink pen. He looked at it for a long, long moment. Fighting again, death, destruction—it followed them like a plague. His heart was pounding. He wrote down: _Ultron_


End file.
